


Version One

by jjjjuicy



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Graphic Description, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Magic, Manipulation, Mind Control, Minor Violence, Nightmares, PTSD, Possible Character Death, Psychological Torture, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Torture, Treebros, boyf riends - Freeform, cinnabun if you squint, fantasy!au, royal!AU, tagging is harder than writing, the self harm is threatened not completed, there will be a tw on the chapter with self harm, these tags are EVIL, this is my first fic on archive hello
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-04-05 07:30:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 53,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19043950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjjuicy/pseuds/jjjjuicy
Summary: "And don't bother with the whole 'sir' nonsense. I'm just Jeremy.""You're not just J-Jeremy. You're the prince."Jeremy looks off into the direction of the palace, but he's too far deep in the woods to see anything other than the smoke billowing into the air. The bangs have stopped. "Not so sure about that. Aren't we fleeing?""Right." Michael nods once and wipes his nose. "Right. Okay. Come on. Let's go. Come with me."





	1. jeremy's entire life gets fucked over in 0.2 seconds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Hailey here. This is my first time using archive, so please bare with me. I absolutely love Be More Chill and all the characters, as well as Dear Evan Hansen. So I thought, "Fuck it. Let's write a book." And here we are! Enjoy <3

Jeremy is exactly the kind of prince he's supposed to be, and he adores it.

He's not problematic or coveting some experimental life congested with adventure and magic; in his palace, he has everything he desires. His Dad is expecting to pass over the torch to him with the utmost gratification and respect, grooming him to be the leader he is required to be. The crown on his head fits immaculately, as if his skull and crown were forged together in perfect unison, so one day Jeremy could reign exactly how his people need him to. He cherishes everything about his job. Everyone agrees that he's going to make an excellent king one day.

"The Deanian Rebels infiltrated and imploded a palace in a neighboring country, sir." One of the advisors mentions, looking up momentarily from her notes and peering over her glasses.

"Costonia or Ares?" King Frank questions, leaning forward. The man clasps his hands together in front of his face, resting his elbow on the table, and sighs. Frank lost hair with age put on more weight; the added threat of impending war didn't help alleviate his stress, as well as running a country and raising a teenage boy making him tired. He sits at the head of the table with his son directly next to him, listening in on every word and drinking up the knowledge.

"Our allies in Ares, I believe." Jeremy chimes, scribbling something steadily in his notebook, then looking up at the advisory board. "Am I correct, Ms. Sawyer?"

"Yes, Prince."

"What do you suggest we do?" Frank asks Jeremy.

Jeremy takes a sharp breath in- usually, his father doesn't choose him for an opinion, so he seizes the possibility to prove himself. "I would imagine they would need resources during such a pressing time. We had a surplus of income last month, therefore, we can spare resources to send over for assistance."

"That's good." The king nods concisely and then turns his head attention back to the board. "But, of course, we should-"

"Take precautionary measure and increase our guards at the eastern border?"

"Exactly."

The rest of the meeting played on with the occasional squabble due to a minor disagreement between the advisors; nothing interesting happened until Ms. McNamara whispered something to King Frank, who, in turn, asked Jeremy to excuse himself. Of course, he knew better than to disobey, so he packed up his journal and left without a word, trying not to become concerned over how quickly Ms. Sawyer made sure to lock the door behind him.

He stands outside the door, listening intensely. What could be so important that he couldn't hear? The voice of Ms. Sawyer, though muffled and frantic, is understandable. "They sent a threat, King! The attack on Ares was just to show us what they can do. They're after your son."

Jeremy gulps and stumbles away from the door. Don't think about it. Dad will protect me. He decides to take a walk around the palace like he usually did after meetings to study his notes. Yes, this will clear his head. He had been particularly involved in the discussion today, so there was less than usual; he decides to just ignore the chicken scratch he could hardly comprehend and focus on the surrounding palace instead. There's too much to think about now. Don't think about it. Dad will protect me. There wasn't much in the palace Jeremy hasn't seen, so he finds himself drawn to the window, staring at the people at the bottom of the hill. Did he long to visit, meet everybody, and live like them? Absolutely not. Was it pleasant to visit the people down there occasionally? Absolutely not, but it kept him modest and he knew his own privilege as a result of it, so he's thankful his father makes him do so. It's still interesting to watch the busy streets and the people stopping to take photos with the guards outside the palace, or the bustling of cars as they whizzed down the road with children who pressed their face to the car window to capture a better look. Jeremy pulls himself away from the window for two reasons. One was that it was confusing to think about how there were interesting people with interesting lives going to interesting places yet they couldn't help but to gawk over something as silly as what Jeremy thought of as home. The other reason was that there was a tan-skinned footman who was finishing wiping up the window next to him, and he didn't want to be in his way. Jeremy smiles and waves at the boy, vaguely recognizing him. He knew his face- this boy is one of the younger domestic workers, only a tiny bit older than Jeremy. They never interacted much more than friendly hello's, and both of them were okay with that. That was their lives. The footman returns the wave with a bow and then proceeds to the window to start cleaning it.

Jeremy decides to start walking down the hallway to visit the garden, vaguely hearing the stomp of a person climbing stairs somewhere ahead of him. Though he was constantly told that it wasn't his job, he enjoyed watering the plants. He talks to them sometimes- the palace is lonely, but it's not like he doesn't have friends. The Head of Security has a son Jeremy's age named Connor and they visit each other regularly, usually ending up in an apple tree in the very garden Jeremy is headed to. He's stopped by a door swinging open from the staircase and a person dressed in all black, staggering out, then facing Jeremy. Jeremy doesn't recognize them due to a mask matching the rest of their outfit over their face. Palace employees aren't allowed to wear masks. His stomach drops as he realizes the patch on their sleeve is the Deanian flag; swallowing a lump in his throat, he thinks, Oh. This is it. This is how I die.

Jeremy hears the beeping at he can't move until suddenly he is moving against his own will. Someone is dragging him away as the beeping continues, running as fast as he can, panting, panting, feet slamming against the ground, and then he's flying. There's a loud crash and the explosion sends the floor crumbling, stopping Jeremy and the mystery person from running as they collapse to the floor below. His body slams, hard, but the grip of the person doesn't leave his wrist. After staring at the hole in the floor-now-ceiling above for much longer than necessary, Jeremy sits up and wheezes in order to catch his breath. There's fire now, too, and the prince's ears are ringing so loud he wonders if the Deanian somehow got a bomb into his head. There is another blast, and Jeremy can hear more rubble falling as the palace becomes increasingly unstable. There's a squeeze on his wrist- Jeremy failed to remember that in his shock- so he turns his head to face the person he owes his life to. It's the footman who was cleaning the windows.

The footman makes his way to his feet and helps Jeremy up too, obviously self-conscious about how he's touching the prince, but Jeremy doesn't think twice about it. They're both covered in dirt from the debris around them and sweaty from running from the bomber. Another bomb goes off and Jeremy can actually see part of the explosion, a tongue of fire licking out and reaching for him.

"Prince, I must lead you to safety." Jeremy gapes at the footman in front of him, unable to truly process the words. Another bomb sets off, leaving Jeremy's ears ringing. "Come on, sir!"

"Where are you going to take me? Any country you take me to, they'll find me. Ms. Sawyer said- they'll do this to them, too." He stares at the footman in a panic.

"I know." The hero says but begins speaking again before Jeremy has time to ask how he obtained the information before given to him by Jeremy. "I'm not taking you to a country."

Jeremy's confused, but obeys at the same- he doesn't need to know everything. This footman has worked with him for seven years and they're the same age. Jeremy could beat him in a fight; if he tried to do anything, Jeremy would be fine. He puts his trust in the boy leading him around, soon realizing he has no idea where he is since everything is so misplaced. Maybe he's near the kitchen? It doesn't matter. The kitchen is gone. More blasts are going off. This place will be unsalvageable.

"What I'm going to ask you to do right now is going to seem deranged, but you need to listen to me. Okay?" Jeremy nods, now fully just listening to the voice. He'd do whatever it said. "There's an exit to the building down there and to the right. You probably can't recognize it, but we're in the worker's quarters. I need you to find that exit, run into the woods, and don't stop until you see a purple tree. I'll meet you there, b-but I need to look for Christine. If she makes it there without me, tell her that I- Michael, that's my name- tell her that I love her so much and I'm sorry-" Another blast cuts him off and Jeremy's head is reeling from all the information at once. What is this guy talking about? A real purple tree? Who's Christine? Is he insane? Yet something in Jeremy's brain continues to compel him to listen when Michael yells at him to go, and he's running through a forest like his life depends on it.

His heart is pounding and he hasn't seen a purple tree yet. He knows exactly what to look for- not just bark with a mute purple that could be mistaken as a trick of the light, but a magnetic and regal purple that draws you in and captivates you. Jeremy had heard a few fairy tales from his father about purple trees with magic properties that special people could manipulate for their use. Annoyed, Jeremy wants to stop thinking about magical purple trees. He's never believed in them. Even if the footman had been lying, no rebel is following Jeremy, plus, he's safe further from the castle. This small mission wouldn't be a complete bust. Impatient and scared, he feels like he's been running forever as he listens to the blasts- is Dad okay? Probably not. The thought makes his stomach churn. The whole 'purple tree' idea is throwing him off- magic isn't real. Magic is not real.

The purple tree he finds moments later proves otherwise- the bark is a dark, rich, purple accompanied by slightly lighter purple leaves. The tree is bigger than the other thin trees around it, both in girth and in height. Jeremy marvels at it. I never leave the palace. How much do I not know about? How much does Michael know?

He slides down the bark of the tree into a seated position and waits for Michael or Christine; the pit in his stomach growing larger with every passing second. He convinces himself that he hears the crunch of a leaf or the snap of a twig, but there's nobody around. The hope seeps out from Jeremy's body. He doesn't know what to do- where does he go? How does he live? Michael was supposed to help him. Some footman boy he never actually talked to is now the one person he wants most in the world so Michael could tell him what to do.

Christine doesn't come to the tree. When Michael does find his way to Jeremy, the spark of hope drains from his eye. He didn't have Christine with him either.

"She didn't show?" Michael inquires weakly, stepping closer to Jeremy and eventually sitting cross-legged in front of him

Jeremy shakes his head.

Michael cries.

It causes discomfort for Jeremy- not only was a footman expressing any other emotion than the joy they're practically obligated to display in front of Jeremy, but the general action of people crying brings anxiety to him. What to do? What to say? After a minute of Michael's failed-to-be-suppressed sobs, Jeremy decides that the best course of action is to say something nice about this random person named 'Christine'.

"I don't know who Christine was, but I'm sure she was a wonderful person. Did she work with you?"

"Is. Don't talk about her in the past tense" Michael snaps, then immediately recoils. "I'm so sorry, sir. That was unprofessional of me."

"You just saved my life and you're... separated from a person you love. You don't have to apologize." Jeremy responds sadly. He adds, "And don't bother with the whole 'sir' nonsense. I'm just Jeremy."

"You're not just J-Jeremy. You're the prince."

Jeremy looks off into the direction of the palace, but he's too far deep in the woods to see anything other than the smoke billowing into the air. The bangs have stopped. "Not so sure about that. Aren't we fleeing?"

"Right." Michael nods once and wipes his nose. "Right. Okay. Come on. Let's go. Come with me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael has joined your party!


	2. a chicken beats jeremy in a fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy meets some cool dudes and eats some cool foods. Mostly just fluff!

"Stand up and take a step back." Michael instructs. Jeremy does as he's told, scrambling to his feet and stumbling away from the tree with the grace of a baby on roller skates; Michael would have giggled if he wasn't utterly crushed by the absence of Christine. Jeremy concluded that Christine was his girlfriend and decides not to press him on the topic. "Do you get motion sickness?"

"I've never been on a plane or a roller coaster or anything." Jeremy responds, confused.

Michael shrugs and extends his hands towards the tree so his palms here parallel with the trunk, and suddenly there's a snap and Jeremy feels like he's being hurled through space and time- streaks of colors fly past him and if he wasn't so stunned, he would be screaming. Nothing hurt, but there was an intense pressure as the world whizzed past him-- the only thing that remained constant was Michael next to him with his arms extended even though the tree had whizzed away long ago. There's an intense look of frustration, and then a pop, and suddenly they're back at the tree. Nothing around them had changed at all. What the fuck was the point of all that? Jeremy searches his surroundings and then his heart practically stops: the smoke from the palace is gone.

"What... did you just do?" Jeremy asks.

"You like video games, correct, sir?"

"Jeremy. And I love them."

Michael smiles. "Have you ever played a game and when you saved, you saved into two files just in case you completely fail in the other file?" He asks, beginning to walk. Jeremy follows.

"Yes."

"We were in another file, but it got fucked up. So now we're in a different file. Same game, yet so different."

"So is there another me? And another you?"

Michael shakes his head. "No. This file goes on without us, so it develops. They don't have a palace. It's a totally different world, but it looks the same. Like Minecraft."

"Okay... I think that makes sense. Does this mean you're magical?"

"Not in the slightest. But the tree is. And I know how to use it."

"Does Christine?"

"Let's not talk about Christine, sir. Er- Jeremy."

Jeremy gets the hint and they stop talking- he follows Michael wordlessly, wondering what the fuck is actually going on, since he can't exactly pinpoint exactly what is happening in his life right now. He's in shock.

Eventually, they make it to a small village. It has exactly what one would expect- there's a small expanse of land filled with farm animals, a garden, two small shops, and streets with houses. It's very secluded and private. Michael goes to one of the houses and lets himself and Jeremy in through the back door, mumbling to Jeremy that there is a bathroom down the hall and that he can sleep in the room with the lockable door. He appreciates that.

_____

"Good morning, Jeremy." Michael says, awakening his royal counterpart.

The pale boy props himself up on one elbow and groans, taking a moment to remember everything that has happened and where his is. His back hurts from such a cheap bed and the blanket wasn't warm enough at all. "How'd you get in here? I locked the door."

"And I unlocked it. You overslept."

Jeremy's eyes trial to a clock on the wall that tells him that it's 8:04 AM. "It's early."

"We're up by seven around here."

"I'm a prince!"

"You said it yourself- you're not a prince anymore. You can't expect for me to just let you sleep all day and night while you're here and cater to your every need."

"That's what you've been doing for nine years." Jeremy counters. "This is a very big change for me."

"Touché." Michael sighs. "But things are different now. You're on the run- and in exchange for this village providing safety, you're going to be a productive member of society. Get dressed. We've got work to do."

The ex-prince was given clothing that was Michael's, meaning that it was slightly baggy on him, but Michael insisted that he looked find and nobody cared how ill-fitting it was (he accidentally called Jeremy cute yet they both elected to ignore that it happened).

The first task Jeremy was plagued with was what Michael called one of the simpler tasks- he had to milk a cow, which was something that he wasn't looking forward to doing. Isn't that, like, its dick or something? Even thinking of the whole ordeal made Jeremy crinkle his nose, or maybe that was just the smell coming from the field as Michael and him trekked over to one of the six cows. Michael explained how to milk the cow and assured Jeremy that, in fact, he was not giving it a hand job.

The next task Jeremy had to do was much easier- he simply had to go the hen cages and retrieve any eggs that were laid. Michael went off somewhere down the road without saying where he was going, leaving Jermey to fend for his own. He opened a cage, carefully removed and egg, and was met with a freaked out hen that immediately jumped out and started pecking at Jeremy, causing him to scream and drop the egg.

"Shit!" Jeremy shouts, voice squeaking and flapping his hands around, not unlike the chicken.

He's met with a giggle from behind him, and a pair of soft hands removing the hen and softly putting her back in their cage, cooing, "Calm down, sweetheart. That's alright, baby. You're okay." She expertly picks up the other three eggs in the cage and turns to Jeremy. "Where's your basket?" She asks, signaling to the basket she had that is filled with no more than fifteen eggs.

"Basket?"

"For the eggs."

"I need a basket?" Jeremy asks, raising his eyebrow. He was just going to hold the eggs.

The girl laughs again, blonde hair flowing down her back. "You're new, aren't you?" Jeremy swallows and nods, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "Who are you?"

Jeremy stares at the beautiful girl incredulously and finds himself laughing- he's never had to introduce himself before. He's certainly in a different world. "Jeremy Heere. Hi."

"Brooke here. Hi."

"No- my last name is Heere."

"Oh! Sorry. We're doing full names?" She adjusts the basket she was holding on her hip so she had a free hand and sticks it out to shake his. "Brooke Lohst."

Jeremy raises his eyebrow. "Jeremy confused. Why are we speaking in third person and with poor grammar?"

"My last name is Lohst."

"Oh, wow, I suck." Jeremy concludes, shaking her hand.

Brooke giggles again and agrees. "Okay, now let me help you with these eggs. You can use my basket and I'll introduce you to all the chickens- the one who attacked you is Tiffany."

The rest of the day went on like that, and Jeremy met Brooke's top six favorite chickens- Tiffany, Esmeralda, Marigold, Rifka, Shirley, and Beatrice- which Jeremy loved because there is nothing better than chickens with old lady names. He mentions that his grandmother was named Rifka, which Brooke finds funny.

Something about Brooke is enchanting. Her hair, the way she laughs and smiles at everything, how she handles the chickens with such care, how she brushes her fingers against Jeremy's arm. Jeremy never had romantic interactions with girls or boys because his father was going to be the one who decided who he married. It was slightly disheartening to Jeremy, but it didn't matter much- he likes both, so whoever is the person his dad chooses, he knew he could be happy. Thinking about his dad made his stomach twist- he wanted to go back to Version One of his world to see who's okay, but he knew that was too dangerous; he's safe here, and if he was in Version One, the Deanian Rebels would surely find him and kill him along with everyone around him. In Version Two, Jeremy's safe. Brooke grabbing his arm and pointing at something brings him out of his head. He takes some time to see what Brooke was pointing at, and his vision settles down the road where a blonde haired boy holding something in his arm is waving. Brooke tugs him along, her usually nimble feet slowed by the stumbling Jeremy and the basket of eggs she has to try not to crack. When the finally reach the blonde boy, she presents to him the eggs. There was now about twenty in the basket.

"Hey Evan!"

"How many?" Evan asks. He stares into the basket, eyes darting around as he tries to count them.

"Twenty-two. Do you need any?"

The boy, Evan, shakes his head. "You already know that we make enough from Chloe's farm."

"I just like to be helpful. You do a lot for me."

"Speaking of, come on in."

Evan ushers Brooke into the bakery, and Jeremy follows, savoring the smell of bread. He finds himself wondering how Brooke and Evan know each other. What does Evan do for her? Maybe they're dating. Who's Chloe? Evan walks behind a counter and pulls out some misshapen muffins with blueberries, bringing them over to Brooke who had seated herself already. Jeremy seats himself across from her.

"Oh! Evan, this is Jeremy. Jeremy, this is Evan. He gives me free stuff whenever Chloe leaves, but don't tell her that."

"H-hi." Evan says, instantly more reserved now that he's speaking to Jeremy and not to his friend. "You're n-new."

"Yeah. I am." Jeremy says. His legs shift under the table. "Does everyone here know each other?"

"Small town." The blonde boy replies meekly. "H-have a muffin."

Jeremy decides to try a joke to lighten the mood. He smiles and says, "What? Are you just trying to get me quiet?"

Evan reacts instantly, eyes widening. "No! Sorry! I just thought that maybe you would want to eat a muffin, but if you don't want to, that's totally okay, don't even worry about it. Are you allergic to blueberries? Oh god. Sorry, I'm sorry."

"Evan, he was just kidding!" Brooke laughs in between bites of a muffin.

"Oh. S-sorry."

"For what" He asks, causing Evan to just... blink. Jeremy grabs a muffin and takes a bite- it was different from the muffins served to him in the palace. The blueberries aren't as sweet and it crumbles more, but it was all around a good muffin. In fact, he maybe even likes it more than the muffins from the palace- the entire vibe he gets from being in this village made him feel warm and fuzzy, like he's home.

The three continue to talk, Evan eventually pulling up a chair to sit down instead of standing. They talk about Jeremy's ass getting kicked by Tiffany, and Evan tells him a story about a chicken from when he was little did the same thing to him. Jeremy likes it here, in this village. The people are nice and they understand him- for once, Jeremy doesn't feel the pressure of an entire country weighing on him, and he realizes how much better he feels without it there. While he knew that governing an entire country would be something he would not only be good at, but enjoy, he also can acknowledge that it feels nice to... not have to do that. Not have to be the one protecting everyone. It feels nice to be in Version Two. Version Two is protecting Jeremy. Jeremy plucks at his food and ends up helping Evan clean, something he hasn't done in a very long time, but he doesn't mention that. They clean off the plates in the sink and clean out the muffin tray. Jeremy had expected himself to find an excuse to leave after that. However, they all just sat back down and continued talking and laughing. Somehow, the conversation drifts to how Jeremy got there, and he simply explained that he needed a change in his life, and Michael offered to bring Jeremy here.

A lie of omission, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brooke has joined your party!  
> Evan has joined your party!


	3. jeremy is a nosy thot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy gets closer to everybody! There's a time skip, too.  
> 

  
  
  
"Michael's strange." Evan says.

"We all are." Brooke argues.

"Disappears five days out of the week for four hours. Always at the same time. Vague answers about where he's going. It's strange."

Jeremy immediately knows where Michael was going: Version One, the palace. All domestic workers work three hour shifts five times a week. He and Michael are the only two people in the village that know about Version One or any versions in general- it's a secret. Jeremy will keep it that way.

About ten minutes later, the door opens, and in walks the very person they were just talking about. "Jeremy! I was looking for you. I was scared you ran off."

Jeremy shrugs. "I don't know my way around. Brooke brought me here."

Michael waves to Evan and Brooke. Broke waves back enthusiastically but Evan kind of just shakes his hand and then immediately puts it back down. "Come on, Jeremy. I was gonna start dinner."

"Okay." Jeremy stands up and says bye to everyone. Just as they're about to go out the door, Evan speaks up.

"Oh, Michael! I forgot to ask, where's Christine?"

Michael whips around to face Jeremy, a series of emotions playing on his face. Michael continues to stay wordless, and Jeremy realizes that he has to save Michael from this one. "Oh, Michael told me about Christine. She's... traveling."

"Yeah." Michael agrees, voice strained. "Visiting Dustin." He lies. Dustin Canigula, Christine's cousin and Evan's friend. It was a convincing enough lie.

"You two always are hopping around." Evan replies skeptically.

"Life's more fun that way." He shrugs. "Plus, I don't think that she's coming back. I think she's moving in with him. Likes it better over there."

"She didn't say goodbye!"

Brooke frowns. "She's going without you?"

"Yeah..."

"And you're okay with that?"

"I just want her to be happy."

"But-"

"Michael and I really should get going now." Jeremy interrupts, placing his hand on Michael's shoulder. He knew he had to get him out of this. Michael does not want to talk about Christine. "Thanks for the muffin. But I'm starving, still."

They say their goodbyes and are out the door.  
  
  
  
  
  


"I have questions." Jeremy says as Michael placed down food in front of him carefully.

"Naturally."

"Why are you helping me?"

Michael shrugs. "Because I'm the only one who can. Anyone else would have taken you to another country and gotten them blown up too. But you're safe here."

Jeremy shifts in his seat as he starts eating the food, uncomfortable. He has more questions, but he doesn't want to pry. How does Michael know about the purple tree and how to use it? Who is Christine? Jeremy decides to cool off and talk about something casual with Michael. "Where were you today?"

"Your world."

"Version One."

"That's what you call it? Sure. Version One."

"What for?"

Michael sighs and puts his fork down with a frown on his face, and Jeremy knows he fucked up. He shouldn't have asked why- he knows why. "Checking up on a few things. Your dad made it out- they found your crown in the rubble. Everyone thinks you're dead. I couldn't find Christine, so she probably is really dead. I don't think I'm going to go back. I'm just going to let everyone assume I'm dead. Nobody cares about the footmen."

Jeremy gapes at him. He's full of very conflicting feeling. One is relief since he knows his dad is okay, but the other is crushing guilt. "I have to go back. My dad can't think I'm dead. Did you tell him I'm okay?"

"This is for the best, Jeremy. The Deanian Rebels won't attack King Paul ever again. You're protecting your dad and everyone else by staying here." Jeremy solemnly nods. "We should go to sleep. More work tomorrow."

It was only eight, but Jeremy still went into his room. He laid awake for hours.  
  
  
  
  
  


Jeremy woke up and followed the same routine as the day before. First, he attempted to milk the cows and failed miserably without the help of Michael. This time, though, he did not get attacked by Tiffany the chicken and Michael stayed with him as he collected all the eggs. There were only nineteen that day, which Brooke was upset by because she needed at least twenty every day to sell. Her solution was to run off to the bakery and get an extra egg from Evan, leaving Michael and Jeremy alone.

"Is there anything else that I need to do?" Jeremy asked. He sits down and is extremely surprised when a chicken hops onto his legs, causing Michael to laugh.

"I'm trying to ease you into this, but if you want, you can do more."

Jeremy considers this and shakes his head. He's fine to just sit here with these hens- this one is Rifka, which Jeremy can only tell because Brooke put different colored bracelets on each chicken's right legs. Michael sits next to Jeremy, who glances at him but then makes a point to look away and pretend Michael isn't there. He still has questions, and if he acknowledges the shorter boy's existence, it will be impossible not to ask them.

"You have more questions, I assume." Michael pipes up.

"What! No." Jeremy counteracts, but now the urge to ask them is even stronger.

"It's okay. I would, too."

"The purple tree. What's up with that?"

Michael laughs and Jeremy stares at the hen in his lap, petting her as Michael spoke. "Okay. This is a confusing one. My biological father got his wife pregnant, and then got another random women pregnant. So his wife- that's my biological mom- divorced him. She and the other woman- my nonbiological mom- supported each other through the whole thing and then fell in love. That's where Christine comes in."

Jeremy takes a breath. "I'm sorry, but who's Christine? She seems important and I have no idea who she is." He asks this while still playing with Rifka's feathers.

"She was my half-sister. The other kid my nonbiological mom had. We grew up together, always playing, and we even had matching outfits sometimes."

The taller boy looks to the shorter one, only to realize that he was crying as he was talking, and felt a pang of regret. Michael quickly starts wiping his face and apologizing. Jeremy shakes his head. "No, it's okay. It's okay to feel things. You two were close, right?"

Michael nods, more tears beginning to flow down his face. "It's hardly been a day and I miss her so much. I can't believe she's just- just-  _gone._ "

Tentatively, Jeremy scoots closer to Michael (Rifka hops off of his lap and bounces away) and wraps his arms him as he cries. Jeremy usually likes to be hugged when he cries- usually by his dad or his personal advisor, a nice lady name Romona. He wonders if she's okay. Surprisingly, Michael clings onto Jeremy's and pulls him closer to his chest, sniffling yet still apologizing. Jeremy reassures him that it's okay, that it's the least he can do. When they break apart, Michael stares at the ground.

"Brooke is probably going to be back soon. I'm going to go."

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

With that, Michael stands up and walks back to the house without glancing back at Jeremy. He watches him leave, passing Brooke, who came flouncing out of the bakery and was on her way back to the field. They stop and talk to each other but eventually both continue in their previous routes. Brooke makes her way to Jeremy.

 

Life goes on. Jeremy milks cows, gets eggs, brings them to Brooke, talks to Brooke and Michael, then spends the rest of the day in the house or occasionally helping Evan out. It's not really helping, more like Jeremy desperately trying to learn how to bake and failing miserably, but the thought is there and Evan has started to enjoy Jeremy's company more and more as they became more comfortable around each other. Eventually, Michael told Jeremy he has to start cleaning up around the house. They took turns every other day; one day, Michael would sweep and clean the dishes, and Jeremy would do it the next day. It worked well for everybody.

Brooke and Jeremy started becoming closer, too. Jeremy never had friends like Brooke and Evan who were his age except for Connor, and they were only friends because of their mutual understanding of each other's power. It wasn't like they didn't enjoy each others company; but if they were in some alternate universe, the two would have never even met. Being a teenage boy, Jeremy adored Brooke no less than he did when he first met her. In fact, he probably likes her more now. Her favorite color is yellow, her favorite chicken is Tiffany (she swears that it's unrelated to how Tiffany fought Jeremy), and her favorite pastries are hamantaschens. Jeremy excitedly explained to her the history of a the hamantaschen and it's Jewish roots, which she found incredibly interesting and hung onto his every word. Brooke always found a way to make Jeremy feel like every word he says is so important, and tries to do the same for Brooke.

Whatever Jeremy was doing, it seemed to be working, because one day while they were feeding the chicken, Brooke kisses him. It isn't a long kiss, and there isn't tongue. Brooke simply presses her lips to his and her hand to his chest, remains there for a few seconds, and then pulls away with a giggle and starts feeding the chickens again. Jeremy was, to say the least, starstruck. He did his best to normally revert back to feeding the chickens, but the air between them seemed to vibrate.

A few moments later, Jeremy dips down his head to reach Brooke and kisses her back. This time it's longer and Brooke drops the bag of chicken feed to wrap her arms around Jeremy's neck. The kiss is short-lived, but thoroughly enjoyed. When they release each other finally, Brooke giggles again. She bends down and picks up the chicken feed, pulling some hair behind her ear. As she begins walking away, she smiles and says, "Au revoir!" but pronounces the 'r'. It makes Jeremy laugh and he waves, absolutely smitten.

He dashes back to his house to tell Michael. Over the two weeks Jermey has been here, they too have grown close. They have gotten as close as Jeremy did with Evan or Brooke, simply because Michael was so kind even though he was sad a lot of the time. The sadness didn't bother Jeremy- Michael would grieve at his own pace, and that's okay. Michael saved Jeremy's life. The least that Jeremy can do is be a good friend. He likes Michael a lot, and it's not even due to the whole I'm-forever-in-your-debt things. Michael is funny and kind and smart, and even though he's going through a hard time, he never fails to impress Jeremy with how well he handles himself and stays responsible. If Jeremy had figured out his father was dead, then he doesn't think that he could manage to sweep the floor, or clean the dishes, or make Michael laugh. Jeremy would have just... given up. Michael doesn't give up. Michael's strong.

"Michael!" Jeremy exclaims as he rushes in, throwing open the door in excitement.

"Jesus!" Michael shouts, dropping a dish. "What the fuck, Jere."

Jeremy winces and bends down to help Michael pick up the broken glass. "Sorry, sorry." He holds the dustpan as Michael sweeps in the last few pieces that were too tiny too pick up. After it's thrown out, he decides to continue with him excitement. "Guess what happened!"

"What?" Michael asks, smiling slightly and resuming his job with the dishes.

"No, guess!"

"You're a dick and I hate you. I'm not guessing. What the fuck."

"Brooke and I kissed. Twice."

"That's awesome!" Michael exclaims. "Princey has only been here two weeks and he's already got a princess wrapped around his finger." He teases.

"Oh, shut up." Jeremy nudges Michael playfully and then picks up the broom leaning on the wall.

Michael finds himself staring at Jeremy while he sweeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudos? <3  
> Thank you so much for 100+ hits!


	4. jeremy sucks at a lot of things, like board games and feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy and Brooke are soft and Evan cries for twenty minutes over bread.

Jeremy thoroughly enjoys being with Brooke. Everything with her is so easy. Jeremy isn't used to easy; in the palace, the solutions to all the nations problems where complex and had to be thought of and edited by an entire committee of people, constantly revised until perfection in order to ensure the security of the country and to protect the civilians from an unjust or cruel dictator. With Brooke, solutions are easy and don't need to be meticulously executed. Hungry? Go shopping for groceries and then, at Brooke's house, make spaghetti or scrambled eggs or whatever you felt like. Lonely? Call up the other on the landline and invite them over. Tired? Fall asleep while cuddling. Everything about being with Brooke was easy and wonderful- sometimes, they would go to Evan's bakery and help him. With their help, Jeremy slowly becomes a better baker to the point where he is able to make challah, so he feels like a successful Jew (naturally, if you can't make challah, you're not a successful Jew). For their one month anniversary, he makes a whole platter of hamantaschens for Brooke. They're filled with chocolate, or grape jelly, or peach jelly. Brooke adored them.

He was getting used to life- getting used to the easiness of it all. Back in Version One, the only rest he would get would be eight hours of sleep and then he was back in his feet; usually, he got less than eight. Probably closer to six hours. Whatever it was, Jeremy feels lighter, happier, and even healthier now. When Brooke cuddles against his chest or plants a kiss in his cheek, he absolutely swoons. Everything about Brooke is easygoing and happy. Jeremy loves easygoing and happy, and he starts to wonder if he loves Brooke. The very thought of that gets him nervous- there's no butterflies or a happy smile, but instead a panic. What is Jeremy doing? He has a country to run, and here he is, toying around with some random poor girl. But then Brooke holds his hand, or laughs, or hell, just exists, and he can't remember why he ever thought of leaving Version Two in the first place. He absolutely adores being with Brooke. Love? That's too much. Love isn't easygoing. Admiration? Yes. That's it. Love will come later, with good luck, but now they've only been dating for a little over a month. Love is too much for the time being.

Right now, Jeremy is in Brooke's den after getting a call from her that she wanted to see him. They are playing a board game called Catan, and Jeremy has no idea what he's doing, but he's doing something. As they play, they have a light-hearted conversation about how cats are so much better than dogs and a silly argument about their conflicting views over Tiffany the chicken. The game ends quickly with Brooke as the obvious victor because Jeremy didn't understand what was going on the entirety of the time that he was forced to play that horrendously confusing game for his girlfriends sake. She had fun, so the sacrifice was worth it. Even if losing hurt his pride. They ended up cuddling on the couch.

"Jeremy?" Brooke asks, opening her eyes. Her head is resting in his shoulder. Jermey opens his eyes too- his head is resting on her's.

"Yes, Brooke?"

"I don't know anything about your childhood, but you know about mine. It's not very interesting, but you know it."

Brooke grew up with a mom and a dad who worked on a farm. When she turned eighteen, she moved out into this neighborhood and then she met Jeremy five months later. That was her life. She still visits her parents sometimes, but the last time she went was when Jeremy and her relationship was still new, so he didn't go with her. "Yeah. You're right." Jeremy confirms, hoping she won't press. He doesn't know what to say.

"Are you going to tell me, then?"

Ah, so she is pressing. Time to lie- er- bend the truth. "My mom left when I was fifteen. I grew up rich and I got everything handed to me, and then I came here about two months ago because everything kind of blew up in my face." He explains. None of it is technically a lie, but he also leaves out a lot. The irony of the whole 'blew up' in his face part made him laugh silently to himself because she is going to assume that he meant metaphorically. He did not.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Nah, most of it was good."

"Do you miss your mom? I miss mine all the time."

"I don't miss her. I don't think I should. She left me. Why would I miss someone who would want to leave me?"

"Do you think my parents don't miss me, then?"

"That's different." Jeremy sighs. "You're supposed to move out when you grow up. That's normal. It's not normal to leave your kid behind."

"I'm sorry, Jeremy."

"It's all over, Brooke. And now I've got you."

They sit in silence for a bit. Brooke's eventual steady breathing signals to Jeremy that she's asleep, so he gently nudges her off himself and lays her down, making sure to put a pillow down for her head and cover her in one of the ratty blankets she owns. He didn't want to just leave, but he was also bored. What could he do? He didn't want her to wake up and find that he had left her while she slept. He decides to start cleaning up. He picks up prices to the board game, and then cleans off the few dishes in her sink as quietly as possible. It only took half an hour and Brooke is still asleep. He eventually gets an idea- something quiet he could do without disturbing Brooke: he's going to draw her. He searches for paper around the house and eventually finds a blank notebook; he tears out a page and retrieved a pencil from a cup in her desk. Then he seats himself on the floor across from the couch so he could use the coffee table to draw on.

Slowly, he starts sketching. The gentle dip of her nose, the way her blonde hair is cascading off of the couch to hang loosely down like tendrils of sunlight. Jermey smiles to himself and he continued, sketching in her fluttering eyelashes and slightly parted lips. Brooke is gorgeous both awake and sleeping. This isn't a first time discovery- Jeremy and Brooke have had sleepover before- but this is the first time he ever got to actual capture the beauty in a drawing. He considers showing it to her when she wakes up, but a part of him doesn't want to. This picture is special. It's for Jeremy to keep. Even if it's a picture of Brooke, it feels like a secret that Jeremy has to keep hidden. Once he finishes, he folds it carefully and slips the drawing into the back pocket of his pants. He makes a mental note to remember to put it in one of the drawers on the desk in his room back at home.  
He stands and stretches out his legs, then arches his back to pop it. The tall boy makes his way over to his sleeping golden girlfriend and gently nudges her shoulder. She grumbles.

"Babe, I'm going to go back home and take a shower." He says to her as sweetly and quietly as possible in order to make sure she isn't fully awaken so she can go back to sleep.

"Okay. Love you." She mumbles out, barely conscious.

Jeremy's throat catches and he's out the door in a second, not realizing that he slammed the door loud enough to jolt Brooke fully awake.

_____

It's still midday, so Jeremy decides to go to the bakery to talk to Evan. He isn't going to tell Evan about what happened because Evan would probably end up telling Brooke accidentally and then apologize to Jeremy profusely. Maybe just a free cinnamon bun would make him feel better. Scratch that: a free cinnamon bun would definitely make him feel better.

Instead of being greeted by Evan taking out bread from the over or frosting a cupcake or picking at a muffin, Evan is sobbing whilst a girl with brown hair desperately tries to help him.

"What happened?" Jeremy asks immediately, causing Evan to start crying harder.

"I'm Chloe." The girl said. "My parents own this bakery but I run it, really. Evan is my employee-"

"I'm so sorry." Evan sobs out, choking on himself before reverting back to a steady cry.

"I found out he's been giving out some free stuff and I got angry and yelled and he's been crying for twenty minutes. I'm not even that mad! I don't know what to do." She looks helplessly between Jeremy and Evan.

"I'm s-sorry, I'm t-trying to sto-op but I can't." Evan cries harder and hugs himself, causing Jeremy's heart to break.

Jeremy looks at Chloe. "I got this. Do you wanna..."

Chloe nods and excuses herself from the bakery, giving Jeremy a small smile before hurrying out of the uncomfortable situation.

"Hey, Ev. You okay?" Jeremy asks as he crouches down in front of him.

Evan puts his head in his hands and shakes his head. "No." He says, still crying. "I shouldn't have stolen from Chloe. I'm s-sorry."

"What's this about?" Jeremy asks soothingly, placing a hand on Evan's knee. "You can't cry for twenty minutes over bread."

"Yes, I can. Watch me."

"Seriously, Evan."

There's a silence filled only by Evan's shaky breaths and he calms himself down. Eventually, he looks up to Jeremy and rests his chin in his clasped hands. Tears are still flowing and his eyes are red, but the shuttering and hiccuping stopped. "My mom says I used to be a happy kid, up until I was seven. I don't really remember that. Then my dad...." Evan laughs cynically. "Yeah, then my dad b-beat the shit out of me, a seven year old, and I was never the same again. I remember that p-part. My mom divorced him and forced h-him to move out. I don't like it when people y-yell at me. It gets me really upset- it makes me think of him, because he y-yelled a lot. Not j-just when he was hitting me. All the ti-time, he would yell. I don't remember much from when we-we were happy, but I know it was when I was little. I don't remember. The only solid memory I have of him is yelling and p-pain. I hate when people yell at me, it's too m-much."

"I'm sorry, Evan." Jeremy says with a frown, enveloping the blonde boy in a hug. "For what it's worth, I think you're awesome. Chloe didn't even seem that mad about the bread. You'll be fine. Your dad isn't here."

"Yeah. I know. Thanks." Even mumbles into Jeremy's neck. Sniffling, he pulls back. "Don't tell Brooke, please. She doesn't know about my dad."

A small part of Jeremy feels honored that Evan felt comfortable sharing something so incredibly vulnerable with him and not Brooke. He nods. "Of course."

Evan pulls Jeremy back into a hug, which Jeremy quickly accepts. Jeremy has friends and Jermey has a girlfriend- he's an entirely different person than he thought he would be two months ago. Everything in Jeremy's life changed, and though it sucks having to make his own meals and make his own bed, he's glad that he found his way to Version Two. He would've liked to come here on different circumstances, but he's glad that he went here rather than anywhere else. He's glad he met Michael. Somewhere, in Version One, his dad is training a new boy to become King, and he will one day. Some boy will become King and it won't be Jeremy, because he'll be safely tucked away in Version Two, away from any threats.

Safe and sound with his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudos? <3  
> Thank you for 200+ hits already! Wow!


	5. screaming and tears but not in a sexy way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title is pretty spot-on.

Screaming. Loud screaming.

Jeremy shot up from his sleeping position in bed in a panic, surveying the room for the owner of the noise. It's not himself, so it's Michael, somewhere down the hall. He clammers out from under the covers and fumbles with the lock, eventually sliding it open. Dashing down the hallway, he wonders what's wrong. Deanian Rebels found us and are going to kill Michael. Deanian rebels are here and they're going to kill me. They have a bomb, it's going to explode in six seconds. These thoughts run through his bomb, hitting his skull like bullets. Despite possibly being in danger, his only instinct is to get to Michael, who has done nothing but help him and protect him his whole life.

"Michael?!" Jeremy asks as he opens the door to the shorter boy's room, voice half concerned and half worried. Sitting upright in his bed is his tan-skinned friend, gasping for air and desperately clawing at his covers to grab something. Someone? He's stuttering something, too, but it isn't coherent. Blue eyes stare at brown ones that are staring at absolutely nothing. Just blanket. "Michael, what's wrong?"

"B-b-b-" He . stutters out, still grabbing at the blankets. Jeremy stares, taking a step closer to the shocked boy as he awaited a response. "B-but, she was right here." Michael finally produces from his lips.

"Who?" Jeremy asks, immediately regretting it upon seeing Michael's crushed expression. He knows who. "Oh."

"She was there, but she couldn't see me or hear me no matter how loud I screamed. And then she fell. I was holding her, right here in my lap and then- then-" Michael looks back at his hands, releasing the blankets from his panic-stricken grip.

Jeremy makes his way to sit behind Michael on the bed since it felt inappropriate to sit anywhere near where dream-Christine was. Carefully, he wraps his arms around Michael and holds his left wrist with his right hand, almost like a seatbelt; Michael exhales and relaxes into his friend.

"My nonbiological mom is from here. Version Two. But the reason Christine and I worked in the palace was because my biological mom- her name is Helene- was a maid, and you know that means her kids had to be, too. Really, Christine didn't have to do it, but she signed up anyway because she wanted to stay with me. She was my best friend. And now she's gone." There's a pause as Michael takes a steadying breath- he's crying. "You're all I have. Which is pathetic, because you'd rather be anywhere else but here with me."

Immediately, "I wouldn't." Jeremy counters, surprised as it falls off his tongue without thought. Talking with Michael is so easy. He enjoys being with Michael, whether it's doing chores or being dumbass idiots by chasing each other around and pouring buckets of water on each other. Even hugging Michael feels rewarding, though it's not something that happens regularly. "I haven't known you for that long, but you're the closest friend I have. Not that I really had true friends." He says the last part with a little laugh.

Suddenly, Michael scrambles to his knees and turns around so he could hug Jeremy, wrapping his arms and nuzzling his face into his neck. Jeremy is suddenly very conscious of both of their shirtlessness- as it started to get hotter outside, pajamas went from full outfits to just pants. Still, returns the hug. Michael mumbles into his neck, "This is kind of surreal. I can't get it out of my head that you're the prince and stuff."

Jeremy laughs, causing Michael to laugh, too. "That seems like another lifetime."

"Yeah." Michael pulls back and wipes his eyes with the back of his wrist.

"Alright, I should probably get to sleep." Jeremy smiles and starts to get ready to stand from the bed, but is stopped by a hand on his upper arm.

"Can you stay?"

Jeremy looks into his friend's pleading eyes, answering without thinking for the second time that night. "I'd love to."

_____

The next morning, Jeremy decided to wake up early to clean dishes from the night before and sweep so Michael didn't have to do either. In fact, Michael was sleeping in longer than he usually did, which didn't bother Jeremy at all. After finishing his chores and eating, he makes his way to the field. Brooke is there, waiting for him like usual with chickens around her, pecking at her feet and waiting for food. When she spots him, she waves with a huge smile- there's another girl next to her with brown hair who looks vaguely familiar.

"Hey, Jere-bear." Brooke says. "This is Chloe. She-"

"Owns the bakery." Jeremy finishes with a nod- that's what he knows her from. She yelled at Evan the other day. "We met." Jeremy extends her hand and she shakes it awkward. "Uh, sorry, usually we're alone. Brooke, can I talk to you?"

Brooke and Chloe exchange glances before Brooke nods and follows Jeremy as she leads her away. Chloe takes in upon herself to start feeding the chickens.

"So..." Jeremy starts. He's unsure how to bring up the topic of Brooke's confession The thought of it made him feel woozy- love. Love. It's a lot to handle, especially because Jeremy hasn't experienced much of it. His mother never cared for him, most of his employees didn't really like him, and his father's love, though genuine, wasn't the typical kind.

Brooke nods, stopping their walking once they're far away enough from Chloe so she can't hear what they're going to say. "I needed to talk to you, too."

"You can go first." Jeremy offers, casually rocking on the balls of his feet. That would be a good time saver, and he could listen to Brooke talk about whatever interesting thing she found. One time, she talked to Jeremy for hours about a book that she had read about lizards. She rambled on about how cute they were and what kind of food they eat and how she wanted to find one in the woods so she could keep it as a pet. Jeremy liked listening to her talk.

"No, you go."

Jeremy sucks in some air and then releases it. It's now or never . "You said you love me." He spits out, ripping it off like a band-aid. "And I-"

"Don't love me?" Brooke asks, frowning. Something in her face looked like she as expecting it, which made his heart sink.

Jeremy doesn't want Brooke to think this is a total rejection, or that he won't lover her given some time. He sees possibility in Brooke- the possibility at a happy future where they fall in love and bake pastries and have a pet lizard named Alice. "It's too fast, Brooke. I need... more time."

"I don't, Jere. I do love you, even if I was half asleep when I said it. So what am I doing so wrong that you don't love me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you, Brooke." Jeremy replies with a frown. He never wants Brooke to imagine herself as inadequate- Brooke is spectacularly pretty, funny, and smart. Jeremy never met another person like her, someone so electric and happy with life. Maybe it's because my palace sucked.

"Okay, well now it's my turn to speak." Brooke crosses her arm and glares, tears welling up in her eyes. "My sister has always been the favorite child and I hate her guts for it. All the boys where I used to live would choose her, my parents would favor her and deny it, she aced every test. I've always been an afterthought."

"You're not an afterthought to me, Brooke. You're important."

"Chloe loves me." She states simply.

"What?" Jeremy glances at the girl across the field who had no idea what was going on.

"Chloe's always been there for me and yesterday she told me she's in love with me. She loves me. Do you know how that makes me feel? To be loved? Genuinely? It feels fantastic." She sighs. "So if you don't love me, then you don't hold a candle to her."

"I..." Jeremy's voice trails off.

"Okay. That's what I thought. This has been fun, but it's over. And trust me, this hurts more for me than it does for you." She runs her hand through her blonde hair, and Jeremy notices that it doesn't seem to sparkle like it always had. He also notices that he doesn't feel a rip across his chest, like something has been taken from him. He's... okay with this. "I'm going to visit my parents. I'll be gone for a week and Chloe's coming with me so... I'll see you."

"Yeah."

Brooke walks away with a huff, and Jeremy sets off in the opposite direction towards the Hansen household, expecting tears but producing none.

_____

He was eating cheese and crackers with Evan and Michael, talking about his breakup, when the bomb went off- a small one in the middle of town square. The three boys immediately scrambled out of the house to check the scene- there was no one there, but no bodies. The concrete path was destroyed though, and a rock had flown through one of the shop windows. Other than that, nobody was harmed. Still, it was enough for an evacuation until a bomb squad arrived to get the culprit. The people in the small community were informed to travel to the nearest community- Evan said that maybe it was a good thing, and they could visit Dustin and Christine, to which Michael mumbled a vague reply. Even though she's been dead for almost three months, nobody in Version Two besides Michael and himself knew about it; Michael didn't want to talk about it and didn't want to answer questions. People were leaving in groups, and after grabbing better shoes to walk in from home, the three left, too.

They were hardly along the path in the woods when Michael speaks up. "I'm going to stay here. I have some questions." Michael tells Evan, giving Jeremy a knowing look. Jeremy hadn't thought about that. It could have been Deanians, even if they're from Version One. This could be my fault.

"I'll stay with you." Jeremy chimes in.

Evan frowns. "I don't want to be alone."

"Then I guess all three of us are staying." Michael lets out an exasperated sigh which Evan notices, frowning and looking at his feet, murmuring an apology for being so annoying. Jeremy assures him he's not, that Michael is just scared because the bomb. They turn and start their way back to the town, but are stopped moments after.

A bag slips over Jeremy's head and he gasps in surprise, hands flying to try to pull it off. Someone from behind grabs his hands and holds them behind his back. Their hands are too rough to be Michael or Evan's. "Michael?!" Jeremy calls out, only met with the sounds of struggle from the other two.

There's footsteps, light and fast- Evan. "Get away from me!" Jeremy hears him shriek, panic evident in his voice. There's a crash and then grunting, a loud shout from Evan- "Why are you doing this? Ah-!" And then silence other than gargling sounds.

"Jer-my-" Michael forces out. Though Jeremy can't see it, he imagines Michael's panicked face and his stomach drops.

Then there's a yell from a voice Jeremy doesn't recognize. "The fucker bit me- shit, 'e's gettin' away-"

"S'fine. We can come back." An unfamiliar male voice grunts- relief washes over Jeremy. For now, Michael's okay. The next thing Jeremy feels is pressure in his head and then he's out like a light, the last bits of light being let in from the sack over his head being washed out by his oncoming unconsciousness. He falls backwards onto the man holding him.

Utter, complete silence.

When Jeremy wakes up, he's in a cell and an asian woman with long black hair is towering over him. She's completely covered in armor, and they're the only two in the cell, except Jeremy is chained up and she's not. She notices him opening his eyes and smiles, pulling out a sword and points it at him.

"I got all the time in the world, so I can make sure your death is real slow and painful." She says with no emotion in her voice. "Unless you tell me where Michael ran off to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brooke has left your party!  
> Your party has taken damage!  
> _____  
> Leave a kudos? <3  
> Also, it's my sister's birthday!  
> Thanks for 300+ hits!


	6. ouch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small misunderstanding with extreme consequences.

His arms are shackled to the ground so he couldn't escape if he tried. Jeremy responds instantly, to her question, though. "No." It's another one of those times where he didn't even think, the answer just fell out of him.

"Suit yourself." The girls shrugs, bringing her knife to his collar bone and tracing a line. Jeremy grunts- he's not used to pain at all. He's soft. "Reconsidering?"

"No."

Next, she sends her boot flying into his chin and Jeremy feels every second like a slow motion play by play- his head thrown back, his back crashing into the ground, the air leaving his lungs. This bitch is not playing games. Jeremy gasps for oxygen. "Where- am- I?"

"I'll ask again. Where's Michael?" The girl is relentless. Jeremy looks at her- she has a wide face with soft cheeks, and a light beauty mark above the right side of her lip. She kicks him while he's down, not even stopping before cutting her word into his side.

Jeremy screams, tears starting to flow. "W-why?" He whimpers out. What's happening? What did I do?

"It doesn't matter." The cool voice replies. Jeremy feels a blinding pain- worse than what he's felt to far as she cuts on his hips. There are a lot of nerve endings there. She brings her boot to the cut and presses on it, causing Jeremy to sob. "You know how to stop it. Where. Is. He?"

"I won't- won't- let you hurt- him."

The girl snarls and lifts her boot, momentarily giving Jeremy less pain that he was already in. She swings her other leg over his body so she wasn't towering over his figure. Then, she points her sword at the bottom of his chin. "Hurt him?"

"You're hurting- me."

She narrows her eyes. "You kidnapped him."

"No- I did- not."

Suddenly, the girl snaps. Her sword clatters to the ground and she sends her fist plummeting into Jeremy, watching bruises flower and skin open. Jeremy cries as each punch lands somewhere new- his chest, his ribs, his throat. "Stop!" He cries out, but she doesn't. She slaps him across the face, she kicks him, she cries, begging Jeremy to tell her where Michael is.

"Please, please, I just need him! You took him! I need him!" She screams as the pummels the boy angrily, eventually stopping because she started to sob.

Jeremy gasps for air, covered in blood except for the lines by his eyes where tears washed him clean. He stares at her as she cries. Something in her looked familiar, like he had seen that face dusting a vase or talking to another employee. He can see her giggling, but with shorter hair. It's been three months. Rage was something he never saw in this face before, but it's there now. "Oh, god! Christine?"

Christine's face drops. "How do you know who I am?" She asks, stopping her crying.

Jeremy opens his mouth to speak, but he's stopped. "We found 'im!" A guard calls from outside the cell- Christine whips around and Jeremy shakily sits himself up on an elbow- sure enough, Michael, his face covered in blood from biting that one guard and covered in dirt. " 'e didn't come easy."

Michael gapes into the cell, mainly at Jeremy, not even thinking to scan the face of the girl in armor- the door is open and he dashes in, dropping to his knees in front of his friend. "Why would you-?!" Michael turned quickly to yell at the girl, his face dropping when he recognized who it was. "-do... this... Christine?"

"Mikey." Christine says with a smile though her face was tear stained. "I was looking for you."

"What did you do?" Michael asks, anger evident. Jeremy can't hold himself up on his elbow anymore and falls back, causing Michael to mumbles something and pull him closer.

"I thought he- he- took you-" She explains, hands starting to shake from nervousness as she surveyed the scene around her. Whatever she assumed about Jeremy and Michael was obviously wrong.

Michael looks at Jeremy who was wheezing from pain and coughing due to the punches to the throat. "He didn't." Michael snarls. "Oh my god. What the fuck happened to you? You haven't showed up for three months and then you come and try to kill my fr- where's Evan?"

"Murphy's handling him."

"Connor Murphy is helping you beat the shit out of me?" Jeremy asks, eyes widening. Okay, he and Connor were never best friends, but they were friends enough. They definitely weren't on the level where torture is expected.

"No. I wasn't supposed to do that." Christine responds with a frown. She takes a step towards Michael and Jeremy, but he scoots back on his knees, bringing them further from her. "I got... angry."

"What the hell happened to you?" Michael chokes out again. "You're buddies with the General's son now?" He yells out, still clutching onto Jeremy, who is shaking by this point. The yelling is hurting his head but he doesn't have the energy to convey that; he's in pain and in shock. Everything happened so fast.

"I disarmed a bomb. He was impressed." Christine begins, not maintaining eye contact with her brother. When they were younger, Moms taught them all sorts of things like how to interact with magic objects or more technical things, like basic combat, knots, and eventually how to disarm a bomb. They were women of many talents and of even more secrets, never telling how they learned what they did or what their next move was. Graceful always, something Michael both envied and admired. "I asked for him to train me in return. He did." Christine smiles weakly. "I'm a badass now. I learned to fight more in the past three months than Moms taught me over eighteen years."

Michael scoffs. "Screw you, Christine. Where have you been? I thought you died." His heart twists- she had been right there when he was looking. He never thought to look in the military barracks. He had essentially given up.

"I thought the Prince died in the attack. The King's going to be happy." Christine bends down and picks up her sword. When she straightens out again, she clears her throat and her gaze shifts from solely on Michael to anywhere but him.

"You aren't telling anyone about Jeremy. Now answer me. Where've you been?" Michael questions, narrowing his eyes. Jeremy gasps, causing the tan skinned boys head to snap towards him to check if he's okay. He coughs a few times, groaning something unintelligible, and then pulls himself closer to Michael.

Christine shakily starts explaining. "Training, always. I tried to contact you so many times- then I found you in a dream. I couldn't talk to you because I passed out, but I figured out you were in some random village, not the one Moms used to take us too. I thought he kidnapped you." She sniffles. Clearly, she was distraught. Christine was never rash, and Michael wonders how much a person can change in three months. Her hair is longer, her hands are cut up and bruised, and her normally sparkly and innocent eyes are dull and threatening. "When I found out where you were, I send some personnel to go get you. Alive, of course."

"Screw you, Christine." Michael turns back to Jeremy in his arms, who had fallen asleep, or maybe passed out. Wordlessly, Christine ushers herself out of the cell to retrieve a medic for the injured boy. A short boy comes in minutes later to bring Jeremy to the infirmary, explaining that Evan is going to be brought there to meet up with them.

They follow him out, down a murky hallway lined with more identical cells containing either cowering people or nothing. There's the noise of a drip coming from somewhere unlocatable. The smell of mold and soil creep around Michael's nose, causing him to start breathing through his mouth. In order to transport Jeremy, Michael carried the boy bridal style- he is definitely heavier than Michael thought, but there was no way he was going to hand Jeremy to one of the guards. A million thoughts are racing through his head as they walked with only small grunts from Michael or whimpers from Jeremy, like wondering what happened to Christine and where they were. One fact he knew for certain is that they aren't in Version Two anymore, but back in Version One, which was only solidified by his sister's mentioning of the king.

Eventually, the group of three reaches an elevator which they step onto.

"What happened to you two?" The unknown boy asks, eyes scanning over them with curiosity.

Michael furrows his eyebrows. "Don't you know? You work for Connor."

The boy shakes his head. "I'm learning from the Dillingers. They're doctors. Well, not their son, but he's as good as any. Better, really. Treated these." He extends his arm and pulls up his sleeve to show that the back of it had burns scars all over it. Michael nods his head, trying to focus on Jeremy's face rather than his arms that are starting to shake. There only are few floors left to floor nine, which is the button the boy had pressed when he first entered the elevator. "Sorry. I'm not really supposed to talk to you."

"Got a name?" Michael asks, voice raspy.

"Rich. You?"

"Michael and Jeremy."

"What happened?"

"Christine happened to him. And I happened to some random guy; this isn't my blood." Rich mutters something faintly, probably not wanting to talk to a guy who had blood all over his face from another person. In fact, the scarred boy goes as far as to take a step away. "I'm not a cannibal."

There's a ding and the elevator stops. The door opens on floor nine and Rich steadily makes his way down the hallway- the difference between here and the jail-like place is jarring. There is white tile floor here that clack with every step. Around them is clean white walls and fluorescent lights hang overhead to illuminate everything going on. The floors are void of any trace of dirt or grime until Michael steps on it with Jeremy, coating the previously able-to-eat-off-of floor in bacteria.

Once they finally reach their destination, Michael practically drops Jeremy into one of the beds, startling him awake with a gasp. "Wai-!" He shouts, but stops himself, blinking, upon seeing where he is. The bed is cold and he can hear the crinkle of paper every time he so much as breathes- Michael is standing above him, too, and he instinctively reaches his hands out towards him. "What's going on?"

Michael takes Jeremy's hand without a second thought. "Don't worry. They'll help."

"Step back." This is a woman's voice who gently cuts in front of Michael, causing him to lose grip and pull back. Without offering so much as an apology, she, Rich, and who Michael assumes to be her son start dabbing him off with water. He makes his way away from the bed and seats himself in the one across from it, assuming he had to wait to be treated. Nothing much was wrong with him. He just had to clean his face and possibly needed stitches on his cheek, but nothing else was bothering him,

He watches the people crowded around Jeremy, and suddenly his gut drops. What if he dies? Michael wouldn't be able to handle it if Jeremy died, especially because it would have been Christine's fault. No, he won't die. It's just some cuts and bruises. But what about infection? He shifts uncomfortably and decides to scoot backwards so he can lay down on the bed and stare at the ceiling while he waits for Evan to come. Though they both had anxiety, they each also that the undeniable urge to try to comfort others, so even if they were both together when the spiraled, they eventually end up helping each other out of it. Most of the time, it's very counterproductive, like a dog chasing it's own tail, but it works all the same.

There's the sound of someone clearing their throat, and Michael sits up. Christine stares at him and his breath catches in his throat. She cleaned her face and she isn't wearing her armor, and now she looks so much more like the girl he remembered from just a few months ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudos? <3


	7. michael is not fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you just have a bad day.

"Your cheek needs stitches. I offered to do it." Christine informs Michael weakly. The air between them is thick with a tension from so many unspoken words. Michael has been destroyed over Christine's apparent death- no matter how many times he travelled to the kingdom and searched the face of every servant, the bright brown eyes and signature haircut was missing from the group. It never occurred to him to check for sweet, innocent Christine with General Larry and his son, learning to fight, kill, and torture. So, he stopped looking. Now, perhaps, the old Christine is dead, replaced by an altered version of herself that looks like her but isn't. Michael knows she holds those memories in her- the picnics, the lessons, the exhilaration of hopping from world to world and meeting everyone new without them having a clue that you're from an entirely different universe. To him, the drastic change in Christine's character seemed too sudden. It had to be sparked by something other than simply asking Connor. Why would she even want to learn combat? She knew enough to protect herself. Her outward appearance changed some, too, Michael can tell, now that she isn't wearing thick armor. The two things on her are a casual outfit she would have worn when Michael knew her and a questioning glance- right! She was waiting for permission to start suturing his cheek.

Michael nods and pushes himself closer to the edge of the bed so she could get a better angle. Despite his anger, he's glad that Christine is alive. She just can't know that. What she did to Jeremy for absolutely no reason was something that Jeremy is going have to forgive her for before Michael feels that it's okay to let himself forgive her. "Where's Evan?" He says this sternly, more demanding and detached than he normally is.

Christine opens a drawer that was next to the bed, pulling out cotton swabs, numbing spray, disinfectant, medical thread, and everything else she would need. "Should be up soon. Had some problems."

"Let me guess. Connor beat the crap out of him because he felt an emotion?"

Christine crinkles her nose, kind of like how she would crinkle her nose when they were kids when Michael would make a bad pun. "He broke his arm running from the guards when they... uh, came for you guys. Murphy talked to him for a bit and he didn't say anything until Murphy grabbed his arm and he screamed. Said he didn't want to annoy Murphy, even though the whole blow-up-your-town-centre-and-then-kidnap-you-while-you-left-for-safety plan was his idea. Weird kid."

"Sounds like Evan." Michael chuckles lightly and Christine smiles. To Michael, it felt like a moment that shouldn't have happened. They both acknowledge their mutual spurt of happiness before Christine leans forward and starts her work on his cheek.

"No scars, please."

Christine smiles again. "Of course not. Moms would kill me."

"Where are they?" Michael asks. "They know about all of... this?" He motions to her, and even though she's wearing normal jeans and a T-shirt, she knows exactly what he means.

"They've been world hopping since the castle blew up. Probably in the version where it's super tropical and warm even though it's really because global warming."

Michael makes a noise of understanding and the conversation dies out, leaving only his gentle grunts when the stitches hurt and the murmurs of people helping Jeremy. Michael occasionally looks over Christine's shoulder to glance at Jeremy- or rather the people crowding him so he can't see. They move and talk amongst themselves for a while. As Christine finishes the last few stitches on Michael, they're still working on whatever they're doing. They seemed so concerned. Why? Christine silently take a seat next to Michael when a fact settles in: Jeremy is the prince.

"Holy shit, Christy." Michael murmurs, in shock. He had been with Jeremy so casually for the past months, and the sudden shift back into Version One made it so he didn't fully comprehend that Jeremy is the prince again.

Christine looks at him with an inquisitive look. "What?"

A sarcastic and dry laugh escapes from Michael. "Jeremy's the prince. You beat the shit out of a prince. Why are you still free? Shouldn't you be locked up?"

"Do you want me to be?"

Michael pauses and the incredulous smile slips from his face. "N-no. You're still... you're still my sister." Right? That much had to be true- Christine may look different and act different, but the girl he knows is still in there, somewhere. Somebody's entire personality can't change in ninety days. Somebody's entire personality can't change- even if they acted different for years, they're still the same at the core. Christine is still Christine.

Christine sighs and stares at the floor. "I have to talk to Murphy. Nobody knows that we did this, so nobody knows that Prince Jeremy's back except for us." She motions to the room of people with her left hand. "Which means there can't be a proper trial. So we wait."

They sat there in silence again, Michael considering walking over to Jeremy. He didn't like being separated from him for so long, even if he was only a few feet away. Michael can't see him and it feels wrong to not know how he's doing. Impulsively, he finds himself walking over to the crowd despite his logical side telling him that he should just let the Dillinger's do their job. However, he couldn't find it within himself to care. When he sees Jeremy, the boy is sleeping (whether from pills or his own will, Michael doesn't know) and in a light blue gown. The blood and dirt is cleaned off of his body, all his larger cuts are stitched closed, and now Rich is working on cleaning out the smaller cuts as the other start putting away equipment and cleaning themselves off. If Michael didn't know what had happened beforehand, he would say that Jeremy's relaxed face and small smile seemed... peaceful. But Michael does know what happened, and concludes that the peace was probably drug-induced. Eventually, everyone clears out of the room- save Jeremy, Michael, and Christine- without another word.

Minutes later, the door opens to reveal Evan and the general's son talking about something as they walked in, Evan giving a small and shy laugh at something Connor said. Michael stares at the two with a sort of mysticism, wondering. Evan has always been apprehensive towards new people, but he seemed to be comfortable around Connor- at least, as comfortable as Evan could get. He was talking about something and Michael notices the cast on his left arm. He approaches Evan, grabbing his upper right arm.

"Ev?"

"And t-the Eastern R-Redcedar- oh, Michael!"

"Are you okay?"

"W-why wouldn't I be?"

"Er-" Michael cuts himself off, briefly looking over Evan and finding no injuries other than the arm, which wasn't Connors fault. Evan's okay.

"C-Connor said that we're in a d-different universe. Is that t-true? Is Jeremy a prince?" Evan asks. His voice is tight and quiet, like he's shoving the words out from his mouth, which causes Michael to feel bad; Evan is used to people laughing or giving him weird looks whenever he messes up. Though Michael doesn't do that, he finds himself teasing Evan sometimes in a playful way, but he doesn't always pick up on the joke.

"Yeah." Michael states simply, reassuring Evan that this isn't a joke thats being played on him. Internally, Michael prays that Evan doesn't have a breakdown because jumping into another dimension is a lot of information to take in all at once. He starts to pull his friend away from Connor, who stood with perfect posture and his hands in his pockets. Michael doesn't trust him.

"And y-you're from here?"

"Yeah." Michael pulls again and starts walking back over to Jeremy with Evan. "Sorry about the whole secret keeping." He apologizes. For as long as he and Christine knew Evan, they had a whole lie spun to make sense of their random absences. Truthfully, it would have been easier for their mothers to pick one universe and stick to it, but they didn't- Michael is grateful for that, mostly, because he gets to meet a ton of cool people and see places that nobody else will ever see. It gives him a sort of... edge over everyone else. He likes having an edge.

"I'm still confused." Evan declares with a frown, but it's immediately overtook by a grin when he sees Christine, who he thought was visiting Dustin. "Oh, Christine! Hi!" Evan waves with his free hand and she waves back. Then, he turns back to Michael, and, prompted by the reunion, asks, "Where's Jeremy?"

Michael pauses and pushes Evan forward lightly so he could see the face of Jeremy in the bed- Evan gasps and calls Jeremy's name, then asks Michael what happened, distressed. Michael tells him somberly that Christine happened. He, with a lot of discomfort and haste, explains the situation as fast as possible. Evan looks like he's going to throw up- Connor starts to say something, but Evan shushes him, shocking everyone. He never cuts people off or does anything that could be perceived as unkind.

"Christine wasn't supposed to do that. I wouldn't-" Connor begins again, taking a few steps closer. Evan shakes his head and makes his way over to the side of Jeremy's bed with his eyebrows furrowed together. Connor turns to Christine, who was still sitting where she was previously with Michael, her head turned towards the floor with shame. "Christine wasn't supposed to do that. She created a lot of problems, didn't she?" He hisses angrily.

At the sudden insult, her head snaps up and she makes her way to her feet and then over to Connor. Though he towers over her, she's a ball of power, staring up at him with ferociousness and fierce defensiveness. "She thought she was protecting her brother."

"She almost killed the prince." Connor argues, stepping forward.

Christine jabs one finger onto the boy in front of her's chest, not breaking eye contact with him."She'd do it again if she had to!"

"She's reckless," Connor spits, pulling her finger off of his chest by seizing her wrist and pulling it towards the side of his head, causing her to slightly stumble. "And she can kiss her job goodbye!"

Then, there's a harsh slapping noise and Connor's head flies to the side. Christine is in front of him with her not-gripped hand raised and eyes burning with hatred. The entire room pauses to stare as Connor slowly fixes his posture and releases her wrist. Before he says anything, Christine lets out a cry and sends her fist flying into his face- he stumbles backwards. "You would do the same for Zoe." She spits.

"Except you didn't do anything. You were wrong." Connor hisses, clearly not disturbed by the pain or the blood dripping down from his nose into his mouth. "And now you'll face the consequences."

Christine balls up her fists, bares her teeth, and then lets out an angry shout before wrapping her arms around herself and huffing- Michael makes his way over to her, pulling her backwards so she doesn't hurt Connor again and get into deeper trouble than she's already in. The bleeding boy wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve and leaves; Evan takes a small step in his direction to follow, but ultimately decides against it and resumes his position at Jeremy's bedside.

"I'm sorry, Michael." Christine says. Michael lets go of her.

"I think... as soon as we're better, we're going to go back to the other version. Version Two."

"Michael..."

"You said... you said you'd do it again?" His statement comes out as more of a question. "I don't know what's up with you because I've been gone. But the reason I've been gone is to protect Prince Jeremy, and he's my friend now. I think that the only danger to us right now is... you. You brought us here, back to where the Deanian Rebels are, and you hurt Jeremy, and Evan, and me-"

"I didn't hurt you!"

"Yeah, you did."

Christine scoffs. "I don't understand. You're fine." She motions to his almost unscathed body (if you didn't count the cut on his cheek) with her hand, obviously not thinking about all she has done in such little time.

Michael lets out a cold laugh. "Figure it out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudos? <3


	8. christine is a bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another mistake leads to angst.

Before he had the energy to open his eyes and face the blinding light of the medical room that he's in, Jeremy just wanted to listen. So, listen he did. He heard a few things, like Evan and Michael talking about nothing interesting in particular. He heard footsteps and a person leaving. He heard someone come in, too, quiet possibly the same person. Michael told them to go away, and they didn't respond- there was only a sound of a body sitting down in a chair. Michael was okay with that, apparently, because he started talking to Evan again in a more hushed voice. After a while, Jeremy stopped listening, instead focusing on the images flashing in his head. At first, they were nice. Sitting in an apple tree and reading with Connor, driving through the city with his father, chatting with a young child in a cafe about how she's going to be a princess one day, Michael pressed against him in a too-small bed. The thoughts made Jeremy want to smile, but he wasn't, apparently, because real Michael and Evan weren't reacting. Were they even there? Maybe they left. As soon as the thought of Michael not being there crosses Jeremy's mind, he felt his throat tighten and new images played across his eyelids- not real memories, but grotesque nightmares. Connor surrounded by dead bodies after a battle, his father with his whole face is gone because a bomb, the young child sobbing and screaming because her mother is nowhere to be found. Michael, cowering on the floor of a musky cell, with Christine on top of him and his entire body bloodied and bruises. Michael, his face contorted in terror and fear and pain. Michael's there right now, that's where he went, he's where Jeremy was and Christine's hurting him. She's towering over him with her sword and boot and cold eyes, asking questions he doesn't know the answer to. The thought of Michael being in the position Jeremy was in a few hours ago is enough to make his heart start beating faster. Michael is Jeremy's friend. Jeremy owes Michael his life. Why is Christine doing this? Why is she hurting him? Why-

Jeremy finds it within himself to snap his eyes open with a gasp. The very first thought his brain produces is that he needs to find Michael to make sure that he's safe. Even if Christine is his sister and logically, his dream (nightmare) made no sense, it seemed to real and he can't shake off the eery feeling. He expected to see Michael next to him with Evan since he heard them talking subconsciously. Instead, there's no one by his bed side; only clean sheets are there and a pale gown draped on his body. They probably had left, which makes Jeremy wonder when or if they'll be back. Maybe they left Jeremy all alone and went back to Version Two without him, leaving him to the will of the rebels and Christine. He breathes heavily, trying to regain his steady heartbeat.

"Prince Jeremy?" A female voice asks innocently from behind the curtain that acted as a wall on the side of Jeremy's bed. His head snaps to look towards the voice, but he can't see who it is. He still knows. There are footsteps as the voice approaches him. "Evan and Michael went to eat. They should be back soon." The voice materializes as Christine, stepping out from behind the curtain. She looks clean, and is wearing jeans and a long sleeved pink shirt. Jeremy stares at her with wide eyes, unable to remove the image of Michael and her from his head, trying to convince himself it was fake, despite its realistic looks. "I'm not supposed to be here, but I need to apologize."

Jeremy blinks at her a few times, trying to say words but producing none. Instead, he throws his legs over the side of the bed. "Needa go find Migael-" He says, voice hoarse and words slurred from the fogginess inside of his brain.

"Sir, you shouldn't stand, there are still drugs in your system!" Christine gasps, rushing forward to grab into Jeremy before he falls over. He stumbles and falls into Christine's arms as she intended, but she did not anticipate Jeremy's strangled gasp and subsequent uneven breathing as he freezes in her grip.

"N-no." Jeremy stutters out, pushing against her with what little strength he had. Confused, she pulls back, but her hands remain in his shoulders to keep him upright. Jeremy explodes, shouting something incoherent and pushing her backwards. Without her support, he falls to the ground and crumbles into a sort of ball. The girl stares at him with a mix of shock and guilt. "Don' hurt me, please, didn' do anythin' at all-"

"No, I'm not going to-" The girl frowns, shame twisting her gut like it was a washing machine spinning in circles. She knew what she did to the prince was wrong, but she thought she was doing it for Michael. She doesn't regret it, given the information she had at the time, but she wishes that the prince would just forgive her so Michael could see what she did and why, how it was for him, how she isn't a monster, how she just thought she was protecting him. The boy on the floor is terrified of her, no doubt replaying his own torture in his head a thousand times. Christine believes that when he's in the right frame of mind, he's going to execute her, but she'll only half deserve it.

Before Christine could even attempt to fix the mess she created, the door to the room opens with the voice of the other two boys. Christine considers hiding, but Jeremy's babbling would blow her cover. She stands there, scared (of herself?), as a string of pleads pour out of Jeremy's mouth.

Of course, seconds later, Michael is there with Evan close behind him. "Move away from him!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Jeremy." Evan mumbles, crouching down next to him as Michael walks over to Christine, gesticulating wildly while saying something that he doesn't pay attention to you. "T-take deep breaths."

Jeremy nods, attempting to follow the instructions. He grabs Evan's (not broken) arm as he does so to ground himself. Slowly, he feels himself calm down and the aching in his chest reside as a simple fact becomes clear: Jeremy is okay because Evan is here, and Michael is protecting him. Michael and Evan are Jeremy's friends, some of the only real friends that Jeremy has had with the exception of Connor and a few other children he met whilst traveling when he was younger. The boy focuses on Michael, seeing that he seems to be shouting at her through gritted teeth and wondering what he was saying.

"-asked you not to come in here! One simple instruction-"

"Le-let's get you b-back in bed." Evan stammers. He lightly takes Jeremy's upper arm and guides him into a standing position. Jeremy sits on the bed, so Evan lets go of him and stands awkwardly there, fiddling with his fingers. Jeremy stares blankly ahead at the ground, focusing on the quarreling siblings.

"Mikey, I just wanted to apologize-"

"You don't get to just fix everything you've done with a few words!"

"Just let me explain why I did-"

"There's not valid explanation!"

"But you might, at the very least, understand-"

"Shush." Jeremy says, not breaking his blank stare. Christine pauses and looks at him- Michael's gaze, too, travels to Jeremy, all waiting for what he was going to say. "He thought you were dead. I remember, the day of the attack. You were supposed to meet us at the purple tree, and Michael went looking for you. But you didn't come and he didn't find you. And he looked for you every day. And he had nightmares every night. He thought you were dead and the first thing you did when he found out you were alive was hurt him. You acted without logic or rational thought. Instead, you made an assumption- an incorrect assumption- and disobeyed an order from a person of higher power than you. You didn't stop. You acted on impulse, with emotion, instead of using your head for one second to consider the consequences of torturing the heir to one of the most powerful countries in this universe, and now you're scared to face the music because you know that, whatever I decide, it's not going to end well for you. So you're desperately grabbing for something, but it's just pathetic, and you're making yourself look stupid. How about you use some of the sense that Michael said you used to have, and leave, before I make a decision using my emotions instead of my brain?"

"I-I-"

Jeremy shakes his head and continues, the completely neutral look on his face remaining steadily. "From what I see, you're a heartless and ruthless danger to society due to your angry outburst with dangerous outcomes because of violence. I haven't been back home for that long, but so far, you've damaged me more than I've ever been damaged in my life. And though I don't believe in hatred, you're one of the people I've met who have gotten close to it. I think you should thank Michael for being the only reason I haven't jailed you for the remainder of your life yet. And leave."

Christine's jaw moves a few more times as if she were about to speak, but nothing comes out. Instead, she exhales slowly, gives one glance at Michael, and then leaves the room without another word. Michael is the first to break the silence.

"You didn't mean that, right? You're not going to lock her up until she dies, right?"

Jeremy lets out a huff of air, head swimming and tasting bile. "Not if you don't want me to."

Hesitation. "I don't."

"Then I won't."

"For w-what it's worth," Evan stammers out, "when I knew C-Christy, she wasn't l-like this. She was never s-so..."

"Heartless or ruthless." Michael finishes. Evan gives him a surprised look, but nods nonetheless.

Michael makes his way over to Jeremy, sitting close to him on the bed so their shoulders press together and muttering out a thanks. The three boys stay in silence for a very long time with only the small mouth noises, hums, or sharp intakes of breath that Evan sometimes makes as a filler. When someone does break the silence, it's Michael again. He abruptly starts talking about Christine as a kid. He explains how she was in the palace, volunteering to work long hours with Michael to keep him company. When he grew out his hair, she used him constantly to practice her braiding techniques on. According to Michael, one time she lied and said there was a gas leak in a hallway so she could cover the floor in olive oil because Michael was upset that he didn't have as much time to go skating like he used to. He added that when they were in Version Two, Christine would constantly help Evan bake or help Brooke (the mention of her made Jeremy feel uneasy; for some reason, their breakup was finally getting to him) with the chickens. In fact, it was her who named Rifka. Jeremy felt an inexplicable connection to the Christine in these stories- he wanted to know this Christine, and befriend this Christine, even if the thought of her now makes him cringe and want to grab Michael's hand even more than he already wants to. Evan would add something from time to time, like how she was the one who taught him how to bake blueberry muffins and how she was the one who painted Evan's room light blue when he and his mom were traveling to doctor after doctor so that when he came back home there would be something that he could be happy about. "She always found the light in a situation, and when she couldn't, she made her own light."

"She sounds like she was amazing."

"That girl is still in there, somewhere, Jeremy." Michael sighs, resting his head on his best friend's shoulder. "I hope that you can meet her some day."

Jeremy smiles slightly and rests his head on top of Michael's, trying his best not to inconvenience him or hurt him somehow. "Yeah. Some day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudos? <3


	9. murder maybe isn't the best option

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Food and gays. What more could you ask for? Also, more DEH characters!

Jeremy assumed that it was some sort of desperate attempt at forgiveness. "A feast." Evan called it. Apparently, he had been talking to Connor and the long-haired boy had asked Evan his opinion on a feast to welcome back Jeremy, even if it would just be the very small circle of people that knew that the prince is alive and not dead somewhere with his body blown to bits. Naturally, Jeremy couldn't deny a feast in his honor. He got to choose the guest list and it went as follows:

Michael Mell, Evan Hansen, Connor Murphy, Zoe Murphy, and Christine Canigula.

He was extremely hesitant to invite Christine, but he wanted to see if he could find the girl that Michael and Evan swore existed, so he was willing to put his fear aside and try his best to enjoy himself. Jeremy was upset his feast was too small- Cynthia and Larry were originally on the list, but Connor argued that they don't know how to keep a secret and would be obligated to notify the king of Jeremy's presence. Zoe, however, knew especially well how to keep a secret.

And so the feast commenced: by that night, there was a huge table filled with roasted chicken, turkey, brussel sprouts, steamed broccoli, both white and brown rice, as well as a few types of fish and a cheese platter. Michael was overwhelmed at this- he's never been to a royal feast (compared to other feasts he been to, this was nothing to Jeremy) like the others, except for Christine, had.

The first person to arrive is Evan, who came ten minutes earlier than he needed to on the grounds of he was too scared to be late. Connor was with him, too, jokingly complaining about how unnecessary it was that they came so early. Zoe is next, coming with a third girl who was definitely not invited, but the younger Murphy didn't seem to care. The next two people to arrive are Jake and Monique, who was chattering steadily to him while he ignored her. The second Jeremy customarily gave everyone the okay, they started eating the food like they had never eaten before; Michael points out that some of them probably haven't ever been invited to a feast before. Jeremy feels guilty.

Christine doesn't come, which Jeremy is extremely aware of, and voices so. "Where is she?" He asks. The others pause their eating and talking, eyes falling on the empty seat that nobody seemed to realize until Jeremy pointed it out. Michael clears his throat and places down his fork, frowning at his plate.

"I-I could go get her? B-but only if you want, of c-course." Evan offers as he leans forward slightly in his chair, towards Jeremy.

He looks at the seat, Michael, and then back to the stuttering boy. "That would be good."

Evan slips out, and Michael jumps at his chance. His eyes flick fervently to Connor, and his next statement comes out a a hiss. "You came here with Evan."

Zoe snorts, whispering something to the third girl (Alana Beck, they had found out through their table talk) that makes them both laugh. Furrowing his eyebrows, Connor replies. "Uh, yes."

"Why?"

"Because he's lame and gay, Mikey." Jeremy teases, rolling his eyes as he takes a bite of food. Zoe and her friend burst out into giggles and Connor just groans, but doesn't deny anything.

"I think you're just bitter because you're jealous." The long haired boy retaliates, pointing his finger at Jeremy and scrunching up his nose.

Jeremy laughs. "We had our fun, but that's very much over."

"What does that mean?" Michael asks, staring with a confused expression.

Connor shrugs. "We both like dudes and we were both each other's only friends. Just kind of happened."

"Jeremy likes guys? But, Brooke!" Michael argues, confused. He had never considered that Jeremy liked guys, or that there would be a possibility of him liking Michael.

"Not loving that bisexual erasure." Zoe shakes her head with a sigh. She places her fork down and sends Michael a mock disappointed look, as if telling him, 'Not cool man, not cool.'

Alana leads towards Zoe slightly. "Don't be a homophobe." She agrees, reaching over and grabbing a carrot off of Zoe's plate, who didn't seem to mind.

"I can't be a homophobe, I'm gay!" Michael splutters, throwing his hands up defensively.

There's a cough, and Jeremy starts talking with wide eyes and a shocked expression. "Really? I've known you for three months and you never thought to mention that?"

"Well, it's not like anybody wanted to dick me down-"

Jeremy chokes on his food, which prompts the other four to dissolve into a fit of giggles. Michael groans and puts his head in his hands while Zoe and Connor share a look and have some sort of sibling mind-reading thing that causes them both to laugh harder. This is when Evan enters to room with Christine, changing the light-hearted and warm atmosphere to a colder and more brittle one. Looks are exchanged, throats are cleared, plates are stared at. The previous events with Jeremy and Christine weighed heavily on everyone but Zoe and Alana, who hadn't understood the full extent of the problem because Jeremy asked to keep it all under wraps in order to not expose or embarrass Christine. What she did was terrible, but it was a mistake. Some small part in Jeremy (which he assumed is the Michael in him) wants to forgive her. Still, they felt the sudden change in the room and quickly fell into line. Christine stares back at the inquisitive faces, feeling fiercely defensive of herself- she wants to shout at them, "What are you looking at? I'm not the freak, you're the freaks!" but instead settles for weakly muttering, "Hello."

There's a sound of a fork scraping on a plate as it picks up food, and the entire room goes back into motion. Evan takes his seat next to Connor (thankfully unaware of the previous discussion) and Christine quietly sits next to him, not taking food, but sitting with her hands folded in her lap and staring at them. Jeremy waits, but it's evident after a few minutes that she doesn't plan on eating.

"Aren't you h-hungry?" Jeremy asks, clearing his throat in an attempt to disguise his stutter. He hadn't mean to do that.

Christine looks at him with both a startles and sad expression. "Uhm, a little." The boy lifts his hand and motions to all of the food on the table in front of them, inviting her to take. Slowly, she reaches forward directly in front of her and takes a roll of bread. She tears pieces off and nibbles on them, taking her time. Trying to ignore the constant glances she gets from Jeremy, she focuses intently on the bread. Pull a piece off, eat it. Pull a piece off, eat it.

"Surely you're going to have more than just... bread. Do you not like the food?"

"No, I'm sure it's fantastic." Christine responds with a nod.

"Then why aren't you eating any of it?"

Christine scoffs, laughs coldly, and then slams her hand with the bread into it down on her plate, causing a loud clatter. Jeremy cringes backwards in his seat, and a silence settles over everybody again. "I'm so sick to my stomach that I can't eat because I know you just invited me here so you can sentence me to death or life in prison or something dramatic like that in front of everybody!" Christine shouts out all in one go.

Jeremy furrows his eyebrows, regaining his composure and setting down his fork and knife carefully. "I invited you to a feast, I encouraged you to eat and be comfortable, and I have specifically stated that it isn't my intention to punish you. I'm trying to forgive you and you're making it incredibly hard."

"You're not going to punish me?"

"Did you not hear me? No."

"I..." The girls gapes at him, wide eyed. "Thank you."

Jeremy's response is immediate and emotionless. "It's not me you should be thanking. I'm doing it for Michael, not for you."

Next to Jeremy, Michael sharply inhales some air and gnaws at his lip. He stands. "I think I'm full. Where can I sleep?"

Jeremy follows Michael out of his seat. "There's an empty barracks that Connor offered for a few nights. I'll lead the way."

The two excuse themselves from the feast without much more to say. Christine grabs a serving of chicken.

 

Jeremy and Michael walked to the barracks together in silence- since Jeremy wanted to make sure nobody saw him, he is wearing a dark blue cloak with a hook and a mask that covers his mouth and nose so only his eyes show. Suspicious? Sure, but at least nobody could ever find out that it's Jeremy. Not wanting to be recognized by any fellow footmen, Michael wore a similar cloak that is a nice shade of red that mirrors the color of his favorite hoodie he constantly wore back in Version Two. Once the two quietly slip into the barracks, there is a collective sigh of relief.

"That was fun, mostly." Jeremy comments nonchalantly as he starts taking off his cloak, unclipping it from underneath his chin.

Michael hums in agreement while also removing his own cloak. He suddenly become aware of their lack of pajamas, and wonders what to do until he see Jeremy taking off his shirt out of the corner of his eye and oh no. He clears his throat and then pulls off his shirt- finding out Jeremy wasn't and isn't straight kind of screwed with Michael. He had always found Jeremy attractive, even before they became (best) friends. But it had never gone any further than attraction because Michael knew there was no way in hell that Jeremy would ever think that way about Michael. But he was wrong. There is. And now they're shirtless and there's so many beds in this very empty barracks-

"Yeah. Your sister really messed me up."

"Huh?"

"You're staring at..." Jeremy motions to himself, where there are bruises splattered across his chest and a few slashes.

"Oh- uh- yeah, sorry. I didn't mean to..." His voice trails off. He shakes his head and clears his throat. "Thank you, by the way. She did a number on you and I really appreciate you not punishing her for it."

Jeremy closes his eyes and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "I remember how you had nightmares a lot. And you cried a lot. I remember how upset you were when she wasn't at the tree that first day." His eyes flicker open and a fond smile spreads over his face. "I could never find it in myself to hurt someone that you love. You're my favorite person."

Michael smiles and walks over to Jeremy, finding his way to a seated position on the bottom of a bunk bed. "You're my favorite person, too." He coos. Jeremy ruffles some of his hair and sits cross-legged across from him. "Oh, I have a question."

"Yeah?"

"What time tomorrow do you want to go see your dad? We could wake up at-"

"No."

"What?"

"No, I don't want to see Dad."

"But you're almost all better now. I thought that-"

"The reason the Deanian Rebels attacked was me. The leader of the Rebels wanted me dead, and he thought he did it, so he hasn't attacked since. I don't plan on ever coming back. I wanna go back to Version Two. With you."

Michael frowns. "Why did he want you dead?"

Jeremy shrugs. "Because I'm next in line, I guess. I don't know what's so threatening about me, though." He shifts himself and lays down so his head is in Michael's lap and he's staring up at him. "This okay?"

Michael laughs and starts fiddling with Jeremy's curls. "There's nothing remotely threatening about you. You're like... a very large cat."

The taller one's eyes flutter closed as a smile plays on his lips. "Well, it does feel nice when you play with my hair, so I'm not even going to stop you."


	10. evan does something he should definitely regret (but definitely doesn't)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has implied sexual content. Nothing crazy, but be warned. This is (mainly) just nice stuff because I was in a good mood when I wrote this. I wasn't in a good mood when I wrote the chapter after this one. Have fun reading! <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> isa, if you are for some god foresaken reason still reading this, you better not say SHIT to be or i'll implode xoxo

This is stupid. Evan shouldn't be doing this. Evan should not be doing this. However, he can't stop thinking about what Connor said with a smirk and a knowing look in his eye: "If you need anything, I'll be in my room." And then he told Evan where it is, as if he expected him to come in the middle of the night with no real explanation. At the time, we was confused, so he brought it up to Michael and Jeremy, and he found out that Connor had not relayed this information to anyone other than Evan. Which means it was some sort of exclusive invitation. Or maybe Evan is just overthinking this and is going to seem like a weird loser when he shows up at Connor's room. But they had been getting along so nicely...

He had waited for Jeremy and Michael to stop talking and get into their respective bunk beds (Michael took the top) so he could slip out as quietly as possible. The two had talked in hushed voice for an obnoxiously long time, occasionally breaking out into giggles and then shushing each other profusely. Evan misses Brooke- they had been very close, and they're currently universes apart. According to Jeremy, she was out of town but would be back in a week, so they didn't have to worry about her finding them gone. But that's not a problem for now. Now, Evan's walking through a universe he shouldn't be in, to go to a room he shouldn't enter, to see a person he shouldn't have met. In conclusion? Evan Hansen is a dumb stupid idiot, and he doesn't care in the slightest because Connor Murphy looks like he has really soft hair. Like, the kind of hair you could just close your eyes and play with for hours without realizing it. The thought of doing that crossed Evan's mind, but he's only known Connor for a little more than two days, and that would probably be inappropriate to do with someone you just met. It's also inappropriate to show up at the house of a person you just met and knock in their door; Evan reasoned with himself that he is invited, so it's okay, but he doesn't believe it. Does that stop him? No, because right now he's being stupid. This whole situation is stupid. He's in another universe. That's stupid. Eventually, he finds himself in front of Connor's bedroom door. This is stupid. Despite the anxious thoughts running through his head, Evan knocks anyway. He patiently waits for a few seconds before knocking again when Connor doesn't answer; there's a shuffling inside and then the door swings open, revealing Connor with his hair in a messy bun and with a black sweatshirt on that is large enough to be a dress.

"Hey, Ev." Connor says, eyes sort of squinty and his voice lower than usual. The door is cracked open enough so Evan can see the entirety of Connor as he lays against the doorframe.

"Hi! -Connor!" Evan squeaks out too enthusiastically, fighting off the urge to cringe at himself. "Sorry, I know it's kind of late, I could just-"

Connor leans forward a bit, clearing his throat. "No, no. I wasn't sleeping."

Evan tries his best not to sound overly-concerned. "Why not? It's late."

The other responds with a shrug. "It's normal for me, by now." Then he smirks at Evan. "And plus, you're up, too. Oh, yeah, what did you need?"

What did Evan need? Oh, right, he was supposed to come to Connor if he needed something, except Evan doesn't need anything. Maybe to just reach up and touch Connor's bun. "I- uh- well- pajamas! None of us have pajamas. Jeremy and Michael didn't seem to mind, they just s-slept in their pants, but my pants are kind of uncomfortable and I w-was wondering if you have anything that could fit me? Well, you're kind of t-tall, so maybe not. That's okay, I can just go-"

Connor laughs and shakes his head so that some hair flops down by his cheek. "You're rambling again."

"Sorry." Evan actually cringes at himself, unable to suppress the urge.

"For what?"

"Rambling."

"Don't apologize. I like it. It's cute." Connor turns to his dresser and starts shuffling through it for pajamas like nothing happened, but Evan just stood in place and gaped at the space where the other boy's face used to be. Woah. Cute? Evan's not cute, he's annoying and short and stupid, stupid, stupid. He stares there until Connor resumes his spot, this time holding a T-shirt and sweatpants. "You wanna try them on here? Just so you don't have to come all the way back if they don't fit. I could turn around."

"U-uh sure." With that, Connor spun on his heel and moves himself closer to the wall to press his forehead against it. As Evan pulled his clothes off and started putting on Connor's, he found his eyes focusing on Connor's hair, his shoulder, his back, his-

Connor hums and drums his fingers against the wall, creating soft tapping noises. "Almost done?"

Evan widens his eyes and practically shoves the shirt over his head to make up for time lost while staring. "Yep! I'm done!"

The taller boy turns around and lays his back against the wall, studying his nervous counterpart with a smug look. "You look good in black. You should wear it more often."

"O-okay." He agrees, his face turning crimson. Evan isn't used to compliments or attention, so the subtle admiration he is getting from Connor made him feel like his entire body was vibrating and that he may bubble up and blow over like a pot left on high heat on the stove. Connor tucks a strand loose from his bun behind his ear and smiles at the boy. And with all of these compliments, Evan can't help but to feel the urge to give one back. "Y-your hair looks really soft and pretty. Like, all the time. And in a bun. You should wear it like-like that, more often." He stammers out, immediately realizing that he took it too far and definitely sounded like and absolute dumbass.

However, instead of scoffing and/or making fun of Evan, Connor beams and places a hand on top of his hair. "You really think so?"

"I want to braid it. Brooke taught me how and I'm good at it too, because I've got a lot of dexterity from making pastries all day!" Evan beams. He regretted saying that, too, until he saw his friend's reaction, which was an even brighter smile and blushing. Woah.

"You make pastries?"

"Muffins and pie and strudel and danishes and bear claws and cinnamon rolls and cream horns and croissants and- a lot, yeah. I could go on for a lot longer."

Connor crosses his arms and laughs, walking closer to Evan (he had been laying against the wall until then). "I've got callouses and scars and I could beat anyone in a fight. You've got muffins and pie and strudel. We're just... opposites."

"Opposites attract...!" The shorter boy makes a weird face at the end of his statement.

"Yeah. They do." Connor hums.

He's standing over Evan, extremely close, to the point where Evan has to crane his neck slightly in order to properly look at him. They're close enough that if Evan tilted his head up just a little bit and went on his tippy toes... "I should, um, go. Thanks for the pajamas." He swallows thickly, nods to himself, and then takes a single step backwards. He scoops his own clothes off of the floor and ushers himself out, closing the door behind him a little to harshly.

But, instead of scurrying off back to the barracks, something stops him. He faces the door again, knowing Connor is on the other side. Then- this is stupid- he knocks again. The door immediately swings open as if Connor had been standing at the door, waiting for the knock to happen (he had).

Again, Evan swallows thickly. "I, uh, don't know exactly what I'm doing."

Connor studies the other's face. "Me neither."

And then suddenly, Connor's hands are on Evan's face and his lips are on his. Woah. Evan feels like a pot again, except this time, the water boiled over and is spilling everywhere, which makes sense, because his entire body feels like it's on fire. "If you need anything..." That's what Connor said. What does Evan need? He needs- he needs- "Connor."

Connor pulls back slightly so that their foreheads are connected. "Should I stop?"

"No, no. More, please. I need more."

_____

Connor is looking at Evan and simultaneously praying that he doesn't wake up to see Connor staring at him. That would probably freak him out. And if that didn't freak him out, the whole waking up in a strangers bed thing might. Evan wanted it (and Connor definitely wanted it, too), but maybe that was all he wanted. Connor hopes not. He had woken up a few minutes ago and gotten dressed because he was cold.

He was grateful for that because, out of nowhere, "Connor! Connor!" Jeremy's voice calls out. There's a rapid knock on the door accompanied by the urgent and scared voice. Connor's eyes snap to look at the door, grumbling slightly and about to go unlock the door until he remembers Evan in the bed, laying peacefully next to him (hell fucking yeah, by the way). He pulls the covers of his bed up and over Evan to hide him, and then makes his way over to the locked door, unlocking it and opening it a crack. Immediately, Jeremy shoves past him in a panic.

"I woke up this morning and I can't find Evan anywhere! I looked all around, but he's not in the barracks, and nobody has seen him since last night! So, I came here. You're good and planning and fighting and shit, so we have to go rescue him."

Connor narrows his eyes and gently bites his lip. Oh no. This is going to be awkward- why does he say? "Rescue him? Er- Jere, I'm sure he's fine."

Jeremy walks past Connor to the center of the room- Connor slowly rotates to stay facing his. The frantic bow spins to face him so that he's facing away from the bed. And Evan. "No! I shouldn't be in this Version. The Rebels probably found out that I'm alive, and they took Evan to fuck with me. I need to go- Michael needs to go! I should have never stayed here, I should be back home already. This is my fault! He could being tortured right now for all we know!"

"Who's getting tortured?" A groggy voice groans from behind Jeremy- it's Evan, who sat up in bed and is rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Shirtless. In Connor's bed. With sex hair.

Jeremy spins around on his heel to see Evan, and then slowly turns back to Connor with a shocked yet amused expression on his face. (Evan starts cursing profusely.) "You and Hansen?" He asks with a teasing yet shocked voice.

"Well, yeah. Was that a... necessary question?" Connor responds timidly. Evan scrambles out of the bed (covering himself with a blanket) and starts picking up the clothes that were thrown on the floor last night.

Jeremy barks in laughter. "It was rhetorical, but that response just made this all funnier." Evan has successfully put his pants on and was now pulling on his shirt.

"I've been freaking out for the past ten minutes, and turns out that he was just getting screwed- Michael is gonna die when he hears this-"

"No, no, absolutely not. You're not telling anybody." Evan responds- He doesn't stutter, and his voice sounds harsh. It catches Connor off guard. "Let's go." He walks forward, grabs Jeremy by the shoulder with his good arm, and starts tugging him out of the room. 

"Evan, hold on." Connor says, causing Evan to pause dragging Jeremy to look at Connor. "You don't have to... go. If you don't won't."

Evan shoots Connor an apologetic looks as Jeremy covers his mouth to conceal laugh. "Sorry. We'll- uh- talk later?"

And then he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> evan horni boy con horni boy they gets fucc the end fkjgafkj  
> Leave a kudos? <3


	11. everything is okay (?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cherish every happy moment! You don't know when you'll get one again. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be going to summer camp, so I don't know if this story will be completed by June 26th. However, I will try my best!

The morning started off nicely. Jeremy and Michael stayed awake, just talking, until 1 AM before finally deciding that they should get some sleep. Then, when Michael woke up the next morning, his first instinct was too swing his head over the side to look under him and see if Jeremy was awake or not. But Jeremy wasn't there. Michael had immediately snapped and sat up straight in his bed, looked around in a panic, until his eyes fell on the top bunk of the bunk bed next to Michael. And there Jeremy was, sleeping peacefully with a soft expression resting on his face while facing Michael. After the initial panic wore off, Michael stared with a doped grin at his sleeping friend, ignoring that fact that his first thought upon seeing his supposedly platonic best friend sleeping was, "cute". Maybe that's a little more than platonic. Oh well.

When Jeremy finally woke up, he smiled at Michael and mumbled a good morning. They both just laid there for a while, then Jeremy suggested that they should go get breakfast together, and they both simultaneously remembered Evan and how he probably needed to eat to. In his gay bliss, Michael hadn't thought of Evan at all. He called out to wake him and when he received no response, he turned around to face the bunk behind where Evan was supposed to be sleeping. When he saw that Evan wasn't there, or anywhere in the barracks, the second panic set in. This one was a little different, though, even though Michael couldn't pin exactly why it was. It just was. When he told Jeremy that Evan was missing, they both were confused until Jeremy had mumbled an explanation- what if he was taken by the Rebels?

If the Rebels had taken Evan, Michael would have never been able to forgive himself. It was him who did all this Version hopping, which means that it would indirectly be his fault that his friend was captured. Jeremy's one request before setting out to find him was that Michael would stay in the barracks, stay safe. And against his better instincts, Michael agreed, even if he wanted to go with Jeremy and make sure that  _he_ stayed safe, too. Now, Michael paces back and forth in the barracks, desperate for Jeremy to come back bearing good news, and hopefully Evan, too. The wait is killing him- the not knowing, the helplessness. 

"Evan! Where were you?" Michael asks as soon as Jeremy enters the barracks with Evan, who looks extremely flustered and embarrassed. Michael had been stressing, pacing around the barracks, and was almost about to come find Jeremy when they had finally entered. Jeremy had insisted that Michael stayed in the barracks until he came back, saying that if Evan was in danger with the Rebels, then that means that Michael was, too. However, the mood between the two seemed light-hearted and not at all like Jeremy just saved Evan from imminent death. Michael relaxes a bit.

Evan shrugs. "I was just in the bathroom- stomach ache. I ate so much food last night and I'm not used to that much."

Michael groans and flops down on one of the beds. All that stress for nothing- Evan had been fine, Evan will be fine, Michael and Jeremy will be fine. He melts into the mattress, a ton of weight lifting off his chest. The anxious thoughts in his brain had told him the situation was much, much more worse than it actually was.

They're fine, thought. Everything is okay.

The plan is that they are going to stay for about a week longer- Michael wants to talk to Christine more, and Jeremy likes the food and not having to do chores. Evan didn't seem to have any reason complain, either- he seemed excited from the idea, actually. The friends are reassured that the Rebels hadn't found and captured Evan- they're in hiding, and it's working. They'll all be fine.

_____

Currently, Michael's walking with Jeremy. Evan is off somewhere doing whatever he's doing (he actually ran off rather quick...), but that doesn't matter, because Michael's walking with Jeremy. Michael always found the ex-prince attractive, even before they knew each other properly. Before the Rebels attacked, he had thought it was some sort of awe that he was in because Jeremy was a prince, but as time progressed, the awe didn't go away. This only increased when Jeremy started hanging around Brooke. It was because they weren't spending as much time together anymore, obviously. That's why. He missed his best friend, but it's okay, because he's back now. As they are becoming closer, he still is very much aware of his friend's soft hair and blue eyes and sharp jawline and perfect nose and the "V" of his hips that was shown in the mornings whenever Jeremy would stretch and- He hadn't come to terms with the fact that he actually might have feelings for Jeremy until last night, when they stayed up until one in the morning talking with Jeremy's head on Michael's lap. Okay... feelings? That's a bit too much to process right now. But Michael deeply appreciates Jeremiah Heere and every single one of his freckles.

Currently, the two are on their way to one of the nearby malls, which is  _so_  conveniently an hour drive away from the military barracks. Even though that made sense, it's still annoying. Then, because Jeremy didn't want to be recognized, instead of dropping them off at the mall, Alana and Zoe dropped them off a mile away. Which is why they're walking now.

"I don't understand. Couldn't Zoe just buy us clothes?"

Jeremy shakes his head, pushing up his sunglasses because they had started to slip down his nose. Oh, right. They're wearing disguises- Jeremy looks like a goddamn idiot wearing sunglasses in the fall. He's a cute goddamn idiot, though. "We've been cooped up for a bit. And, knowing Zoe, she'd probably just buy us edible underwear and call it a day."

"Oh." Michael says, not thinking about Jeremy in edible underwear.

When they finally arrive at the mall, Jeremy makes a direct beeline towards a small kiosk which held newspapers. Michael, however, does the talking while Jeremy hangs back. He knows what Jeremy wants- there's a newspaper with King Paul on the front- and buys it.

**A NEW PRINCE**

_**After months of waiting, King Paul Heere has finally released an official statement on the future of our country. Saddened by the death of our prince, Prince Jeremiah Heere, the country has been in a state of shock. However, one questions remained prevalent: with no successor to the throne, what will become of our government? Here's what King Paul has to say on the matter: "I've been struggling with the death of my son. We all have. Such a quick an unexpected death of someone so young and so close to all of our hearts is bound to really rock a nation. Of course, even in personal distress, I must keep my people safe. That's my duty. Therefore, I have been looking for a man around my son's age who already has my trust- I'm sure many people can make a guess as to who. A promising candidate for a successor has been selected and is currently undergoing rigorous private training in order to get him up to par. While I will keep his personal information quiet, I can assure all of you that there is no reason for concern. In the meantime, I appreciate the thoughtful gifts and letters the palace has been receiving. I wish only for the best."** _

"Who do you think it is?" Michael asks after reading the passage. He looks over to Jeremy, who has an expression of both sadness and yearning on his face.

"The trainee prince that they're talking about is Dustin Kropp, most likely. Son of a Duke. Dad always said he was good. Kind of an ongoing joke that he was better than me- Dad was just teasing. He probably feels terrible about it, now." Jeremy stares at the picture of the king on the cover, his expression turning hard and unreadable.

Michael nods, despite not having the slightest idea as to who Dustin  _Kropp_  is. "Are you sure you don't want to talk to him?" He asks, based off of Jeremy's reaction to the picture. It dawns on him then that this is the first time Jeremy is seeing his Dad in three months, and it's a black and white picture on a newspaper- not even in person.

Jeremy looks up at Michael with an inquisitive look. "Do I want to talk to... Kropp?"

"Your dad." Michael says, scoffing a bit. He knows Jeremy well enough by now to see that he is obviously playing clueless, not wanting to talk about his previous life. They never talked about it much.

Jeremy sighs, folding the newspaper and putting it in his back pocket. It didn't fit, obviously, so it just stuck out. It didn't seem to bother him. "I don't want to give him hope that I'll come back. I don't want to go back." Jeremy looks at Michael with a sad smile. "Even if I wanted to just  _talk_ , I couldn't get into the castle without anyone seeing. If I even stepped foot in that castle, I'd be putting the lives of everyone in this country at risk because of the Rebels. I'd never do that to my people. Even if they think that I'm dead, I still have to protect them. That's what's important. My people."

Michael smiles. "That's really noble of you, Jere. It takes a lot to be away from your family." He reaches forward to grab Jeremy's wrist, but Jeremy instead takes Michael's hand. They sit down on a purple couch in one of the mall seating areas.

"How's your moms?"

"They're... Version hopping."

Jeremy cocks his head to the side. "What do they do in all the Versions?" He asks, genuinely wondering.

The truth? That's too much for Jeremy to know, no matter how much Michael trusts him. Something like that could potentially ruin their friendship, or alter it completely. Instead, Michael goes with the cover that he and Christine use as a code. "They usually vacation. Their favorite Version is a really warm and tropical one, but it's because global warming, so that sucks. They usually don't stay too long, though. If they do, Christine and I team up to go find them."

 " 'Team up to go find them'? You're talking like they'd be stuck on some dangerous mission or something." Jeremy laughs at the absurdity of it.

Michael nods.

 

The rest of the consisted of eating fast food the the food court at the mall and buying clothes for the next few days. Since Evan wanted to stay behind (that made Jeremy laugh a lot, but he didn't tell Michael why it was so funny), Michael was in charge of picking out the outfits for him. When everything is done, Jeremy's proud of himself for avoiding getting recognized- nobody seemed to say anything, or act weird, or start freaking out because the prince was back from the dead. Part of him was a little upset that he can't be recognized with sunglasses on, but he also kept his head down the entire time and didn't talk to anyone other than Michael, so it wasn't like any of the mall's occupants had the time to catch a glance of Jeremy and consider, "Hey, maybe that's the prince that died three months ago in a bombing back from the dead and inside of our local mall!".

Jeremy and Michael truly believed that they had avoided all suspicion. Nobody came up to ask questions. The day had been blissfully normal, and perfect, really. Michael noted that they held hands more than once and that there was this one super duper cool part when they were eating food where Jeremy wiped the sauce off of Michael's mouth with his thumb. It was probably a platonic gesture, but the thought of Jeremy focusing on Michael's lips made Michael feel all sorts of things; how did then-Michael not just die on the spot? All around, the boys had a fun day in the mall.

Until they were walking back to the spot where Zoe and Alana were supposed to pick them up.

Until it all went wrong.

Until there was a gun pressed against the back of Jeremy's head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudos? <3


	12. hot damn!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you weren't expecting this.

The last time Michael had been desperate wasn't that long ago. It had been when they were attacked in Version Two, when he called out to Jeremy after hearing his screams. He was in a blind terror at the time, and all we wanted was for Jeremy to be okay. But they had guns, and Michael knew that the best thing he could do would be to run, get himself back to safety, and then find Jeremy again. That's what he did- and then he found Jeremy, and it was like the most relief he had ever felt.

But this panic is worse, because running won't help. Michael doesn't know what to do- if he runs, Jeremy dies. If he fights, both of them die. Both options are horrible because Jeremy dies in both of them. No other factors matter. Michael doesn't matter. Jeremy is the one that needs to be okay. "Please don't hurt him." Is the first thing that Michael says, eyes wide and staring at Jeremy, who keeps his face neutral. Michael wonders how he can stay so calm when there's the cool metal pressed against his head, something that could kill him with just the squeeze of a finger. The thought of Jeremy collapsing to the floor, dead, makes Michael's heart start beating faster. It usually does that when he thinks about Jeremy, but it's different this time. This time, he can't feel his fingers because he's so scared, yet he knows that every part of his body is shaking.

Jeremy lets the bags that he's still holding from the mall drop from his arms and onto the ground. Michael does the same. Taking his time, he raises his hands so they are next to his head, arms bent at the elbows. "Don't say anything. Just go." He says to Michael. His voice wavers a little, but Michael can't decipher any real fear. How?  _How?_  Michael knows he can fight this guy off, but he's too scared to move, too scared to lose Jeremy. He's acting like it's him with the gun pressed against his head, but it's not. It would be Jeremy with the hole in his skull, Jeremy falling to the floor, Jeremy's blood painting the ground- "Now."

The answer is simple. "No." There is absolutely no way that Michael is going to leave Jeremy. Not here, not like this.

Jeremy closes his eyes and exhales, making sure not to move any part of his body. "They want me, not you." He reasons. Jeremy doesn't want Michael to get hurt, which is sweet, but Michael can't find it within himself to care about getting hurt. The more time he wastes, the longer Jeremy stays alive, the better the chance he has of getting both of them out of there safely. Or, at least, getting Jeremy out of there safely, even if it means Michael has to do something incredibly stupid to save him and die in the process.

Briefly, Michael's eyes flicker to the owner of the gun. It's a woman who looks to be in about her late thirties with a sickening grin plastered on her face. She is wearing all black, including a sweatshirt, but the hood is pulled down. She's not hiding her identity- she wants Michael to see her. Her smile. The evil glint in her eyes. She wants Michael to see it all. She's putting on a show; this is a game to her, and this must be her favorite part, because she's winning it. "Don't hurt him."

The woman shrugs. "Squip's orders." The phrase rolls off her tongue casually, but it hits Michael like a ton of bricks. The name swirls around in his head, hitting the inside of his skull like someone is throwing a ball of concrete around in his head. However, instead of his fear becoming more immense, the severity of the situation starts to set in and he feels himself start to think more clearly and focus more. All he can see is the gun, Jeremy, that woman's stupid smile, and her finger on the trigger. Michael grinds his teeth together, fear replaced with sheer and unstoppable anger, but Jeremy just looks confused. "Who's Squip?"

Michael ignores the question, instead repeating his previous phrase. "Don't hurt him." If it's the Squip's orders, then he needs to get in contact with his mothers and Christine. They have a problem- they're supposed to have  _stopped_ the Squip, but now it seems that he's found the Mells. And it's all just a game to him. It's a stupid goddamn game that the Squip plays for his own enjoyment, where he kills as many people he can and conquers as many Versions as he can until the Mells can stop him. They're each other's final bosses, and Squip has never won. But now he has Jeremy at gunpoint. Squip is winning.

The woman laughs, except her laugh is like a bark. She's mocking Michael. This is a game to her, but it isn't a game to him. He has the upper hand, he just needs to calm himself down. Once he's calm, he can think rationally and save Jeremy. That is what's important. To save Jeremy. He feels the shaking in his fingers again, but this time it's not from fear. He curses out loud, and Jeremy very carefully asks him what's wrong. Michael doesn't respond. He can't- he has to calm down- he can't-

"I don't know what's going on here, but you have ten seconds to run before I shoot him  _and_ you." The woman says, glaring at Michael. "One..."

Michael looks at Jeremy. There's a million things that Michael would want to say to Jeremy if this was really the end, but it isn't, even if the woman doesn't know it yet. He settles for an apology for what he's going to do, which is most likely going to decimate Jeremy's trust for him. "I'm really sorry." He says, swallowing thickly. His hands start to vibrate more and they start to get hotter.

"Don't be, just go." Jeremy thinks that Michael's apologizing for leaving him behind. He isn't. He's apologizing for something much worse. Jeremy's stance remains rigid against the gun, but he looks relieved because he thinks that Michael is going to leave and save himself.

"That's not what I'm sorry for. I'm not leaving." Michael shakes his head. More heat builds up in his hands; it's starting to become too overwhelming for him to handle. He's going to snap soon.

"Michael, what? Just go!" Jeremy's face is panicked and pleading. He wants Michael safe. Michael wants Jeremy safe more.

"Seven..." There is less and less time, and with every number she calls out, Jeremy gets more desperate for Michael to leave him behind. It's strange to him that Jeremy value's his life over his own, but at the same time, Michael feels the same way for Jeremy.

"I lied to you." He admits, his memories bringing him back to them after they had first used the purple tree and Jeremy started asking questions.

_______

_"Okay... I think that makes sense. Does this mean you're magical?"_

_"Not in the slightest. But the tree is. And I know how to use it."_

_____

"Just go!" Jeremy begs, almost turning his head but keeping his neck rigid at the last second.

"Nine..." They've run out of time to talk. Now it's time for Michael to act.

The next few seconds go by incredibly slow. First, the heat in Michael's hands snaps, and then both erupt into balls of burning red fire, causing Jeremy's eyes to go wide. The woman with the gun has a similar reaction, except she takes a step back, away from Jeremy. The gun is no longer pointed at Jeremy. Michael should stop. He should stop. But he's angry. He does not stop.

He walks towards the woman threateningly. The fire on his hands crackles and snaps- he doesn't feel the burning or get affected by it, but she will. She looks like she's about to break into a full on run. Michael is too fast- before she can move much more, he prevents that by seizing her wrist to the hand with the gun in it. She screeches as the fire comes in contact with her skin, burning it, and drops the gun. It clatters to the pavement below. The gun is no longer a threat, and neither is the woman. Michael should stop. He should stop. But he's angry. He does not stop. He moves his hand from her hand to her shoulder, coming dangerously close to her neck.

"Tell Squip," Michael begins, sure that his eyes are glowing from rage both literally and metaphorically. The woman is crying. "That it's his move."

He lets go of her and watches the fire disappear from his hands. The woman stands, panting, some of her skin red and with bubbles- Michael turns to Jeremy, who instantly stumbles backwards from Michael.

"What... the fuck?" Jeremy asks, staring at Michael's hands with a mix of shock and disgust.

Michael reaches forward to grab Jeremy's arm so they could start running. He'd explain on the way. However, Jeremy jerks backwards. "Let's just go. I'll tell you everything later."

Jeremy slowly nods in agreement and they both set off again to where Zoe should be, this time in complete and utter silence. When they get into the car, Zoe makes a joke, but neither of them laugh. When she asks, what's wrong, neither of them answer. Eventually, she just shuts up and drives them back to the barracks, where they are safe from murderous women with guns who are following the orders of a merciless dictator with the one goal to take over every Version he can because he finds it fun.

 

Jeremy had ended up avoiding Michael and just going to sleep- on the bottom bunk- instead of talking to him. Michael ended up in Christine's room, sitting on her bed, staring at the wall blankly. He's so tired from using his magic after it remained dormant inside of him for such a long time, and even more tired because Jeremy seems to be scared of him. It makes him want to curl up and cry, but he's too tired for that, too.

"Okay, let me get this straight." Christine says, pacing back and forth with her eyes closed in concentration while pinching the bridge of her nose. "You used The Fire again?"

"Yes." Michael says, his voice completely monotone. He's thoroughly exhausted- the memory of Jeremy stepping away from him with fear in his eyes runs through his brain on loop, as if he were trying to psychologically torture himself. If that's his intention, then it's definitely working.

"You haven't used that since we were eleven and one of Squip's followers attacked me." She elaborates, gesticulating wildly. Christine tends to do that when she's trying to understand something- when she didn't understand a concept in math or science, he would sometimes walk in on her talking to herself out loud while trying to make sense of everything. It seemed to calm her down, and when Michael had explained to her what happened, she was the exact opposite of calm.

"Yes."

"And you used it, why?"

"Someone tried to kill Jeremy. Squip."

"You could've just fought them. Nobody is supposed to  _know_ about us. Does he know about Moms?"

"No." Michael responds. Christine exhales in relief, nodding to herself. Michael adds, "I'm in love with him."

Christine looks at him with a sad expression across her face, pausing her nervous pacing. Michael doesn't like being looked at like he's a kicked puppy. "Michael..."

"Don't say anything. Just... we can't disappear. I don't want to leave him behind."

She bites her thumb, furrowing her eyebrows in concentration. "So what do you suggest we do? The only way we can stay here without getting Jeremy and everyone else in this version killed or enslaved is to track down Squip and kill him once and for all, as if our family hasn't been able to do that for generations."

Michael smirks, knowing his face probably looks like a smug douche right now. He kind of is. "Fine, then. Let's do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael powered up!  
> _____  
> Leave a kudos? <3  
> Thank you for 600+ hits!


	13. hey guess what, jeremy is basically a professional hair stylist now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> snip snip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Tomorrow, you'll be receiving a spam of five to six chapters before I'm off to camp. The story won't be completed until after the summer, as I'm going away to sleep-away camp and won't have me phone. Sorry! <3

Christine and Jeremy aren't on good terms- in fact, they're far from it. Christine is forever going to be in his debt because she accidentally tortured him- the actual torture wasn't an accident, but specifically choosing Jeremy was. And now she figures out that Michael's in love with him. To recap: she tortured the boy her brother is in love with. Correction: she tortured the boy her magical fire brother is in love with but is currently scared of said magical fire brother because said magical fire. 

The shortened version: fuck.

Despite how stupid it seems, she's currently going to the barracks to find Jeremy because now she needs to talk to him. About the whole magical fire thing.

"...Jeremy?" Christine asks, slowly opening the doors and walking inside. There's sniffling, which tells her that Jeremy is crying. She weaves through the large amount of beds to the source of the noise and finds the boy laying in the bottom bunk of the bed furthest from the door. He ignores her and continues sniffling. His breath is uneven. "Jeremy."

"Christine, you're the last person I want to talk to right now." He says harshly. The tone makes Christine cringe back a little, but she was here to check on Jeremy, so that's what she is going to do. Usually, he's indifferent towards her. He's just upset right now. That probably is why he's being so mean to her now.

"Sorry." She murmurs in reply, taking a seat on the bed across from him. She stares at his back for a while, wondering whether she should say something or stay quiet.  She decides on the former. "Are you okay?" Christine asks tentatively, scooting closer to Jeremy so she is sitting on the very edge of the bed she's sitting on.

"In shock, mostly." Jeremy responds wearily. His voice is quiet; he turns around in the bed to face Christine. His eyes are puffy, but he's obviously trying to open up to Christine a little. He takes a long and deep breath before proceeding to speak. "I know that woman was trying to hurt me and all. And I also know that was Michael did... it was to protect me. But it was horrifying to see him like that. So.... angry. She dropped the gun and he didn't stop. His eyes were on fire. I thought he was going to kill her." Christine stares at the boy- he looks so shaken up and genuinely scared. "I Thought he was going to hurt me."

She gasps slightly, then pressing her mouth into a thin line. She leans backwards slightly as the realization dawns on her. "Because of... me." It had been her first who had was so fueled with anger. It had been her first who didn't stop.

Jeremy stares at her with a dazed expression. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I know I shouldn't be, but I'm  _scared_  of you. Like, some sort of PTSD."

"Don't apologize. What I did to you was unfair and disgusting. I owe you so much for not killing me, even if it was only because I'm Michael's sister. That was really brave of you to do."

Jeremy laughs slightly and starts to sit up. "It wasn't. At all. Not murdering someone is usually an easy choice."

Theres a moment of silence before Christine starts to talk again. The mention of almost-murder had gotten her back on task. "Michael really cares for you. Like, a lot. And he would never hurt you, even if I did. He really lo... ikes you. He's never been so close with somebody or as fiercely protective of somebody as you. Not even me, I don't think. I've never seen his eyes turn to fire, just his hands. " She smooths her shirt down, not sure what to say after that. Jeremy seems to be thinking, not staring at her in particular, but something off to the side. Christine doubts he's actually looking at something- just zones out, most likes. She decides to start rambling. "He's always been protective of his friends. And of me. Actually, when we were little, we would play this game with Brooke and Chloe where we would all just play fight. It wasn't a game really, it was more just us tackling each other, but it was fun. And this one time, Chloe pulled my hair and I cried so he got up and was like 'Pulling hair is against the rules!' and he made Chloe apologize and his my hair. It was kind of adorable, looking back at it. At the time I was crying. Oh! And this time when we were thirteen and I had my first kiss, but then I told him about my dream to do performance art in a bowling alley of me giving birth to a bowling ball and he called me a freak and I cried and Michael cornered him in the hallway and forced him to write me a handwritten apology." She continues her rant for a while, occasionally stopping to see Jeremy's reaction. As she spoke, she would imitate other people's voice in the most ridiculous ways possible- Little Michael was similar to a high pitched squeal. When she imitated her mothers, she used some wack accent that her parents definitely did not have. He looked shocked for a while, until he finally smiles- it's a little dopey, but he's obviously extremely happy from Christine's entire rant. Then he starts to giggle and Christine can see why her brother fell in love.

"What?" She asks, pausing and brushing some hair behind her ear.

"Nothing..." He says. "It's just, Michael and Evan always talk about you and how sweet and bubbly and happy you are, and I never got to see it until just now. I like happy bubbly Christine."

She laughs out loud, squinting her eyes a bit and smiling brightly. Jeremy laughs too, and it's a nice moment between the two of them. Impulsively, Christine asks, "Do you want to cut my hair?"

"Huh?"

"It used to be shorter, but I grew it out. Do you want to cut it?"

"Oh! Sure!"

Jeremy properly sits up in the bed so he isn't underneath the covers anymore; Christine walks away and comes back moments later with scissors- the kind meant for paper, not hair.

"How did you get that so fast?" Jeremy asks, looking around.

Christine gives him a confused smile. "There's a whole bin with supplies and stuff. Rope and scissors and tools and stuff. You guys didn't notice?"

"We don't spend a lot of time here, I guess." Jeremy shrugs, eyes falling to Christine's hands, where she grips the scissors. Something within him screams 'threat' and he cringes backwards when she attempts to hands them to her, causing her to cringe too.

"Sorry."

"No, I know that you're not going to hurt me..." Jeremy's voice trails off and he hesitantly grabs the scissors from Christine's hands. She nods once, and then sits down on the floor in front of Jeremy so that each of his legs are on one side of his body.

"Whenever you're ready." She says.

"I've never done this before, but aren't you supposed to tie it in a ponytail or something?

Christine makes a face, even if Jeremy can't see it. "That's what Mom usually did." She replies, pulling a hair tie off of her wrist and raising her hand upwards so Jeremy can grab it. He takes it and does his best to neatly put her hair in a loose ponytail. Then, he pulls his down slowly so that it is level with her shoulders. 

"Is this a good length for you?" He asks, leaning forward and to the side a bit so of she turned her head to the right she would be able to see him.

"Yeah, perfect. Snip that baby." She says, making a scissoring motion with her hand then giggling.

Jeremy smiles slightly then returns back to his normal seated position. He takes a deep breath, holds it, and then positions the scissors right above the ponytail. He gently squeeze the scissors, surprised at how thick the hair was. However, the first cut had been made, so there was no stopping now. He continues, snipping and cutting, listening to the crunch-like noises of the hair. When it finally all detaches, it falls to the floor behind Christine, who quickly reaches behind herself to grab it and look at it; when she sees it, she squeals in excitement.

"How does it look?" She asks.

Jeremy studies the cut he made of the hair and cocks his head to the side slightly. "It's a little uneven, but nothing I can't fix." He deduces, working on cutting again to get the blunt cut to look softer and more even. Otherwise, he thinks he did a pretty good job. Christine eventually stands up and turns to face him. She kicks some of the fallen hair under the bed and then reaches up to touch what is still on her head.

"Do you like it?"

Jeremy smiles, looking up at her. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

_____

There's nothing like a big tree. A thick tree. One nice, humongous, fat, tree. And there's a really big tree that Evan found- okay, not found, because it's obviously been there for years, but Evan felt like he discovered it all the same. The branches are thick and sturdy, he realized with great excitement once he climbed the three. "Climbed" was really overselling it. With a broken arm, it was more like Evan had pulled himself up with a low hanging branch halfway with one arm, tried to break it, and observed that it didn't budge. He hasn't climbed a tree since he was back home, and even then, a little time had surpassed since he felt that familiar sting of bark on his hands. Then, he concluded that the best fix to this solution would be Connor coming to climb with him and help him up.

It isn't like they're dating or anything, but Evan loves being around Connor. He likes playing with his hair and usually, he smells really good. Like pumpkin spice, but not exactly. Evan can't exactly pin the smell, so he decided that it must be a smell that is distinctly Connor's. Connor owns the kind-of-pumpkin-spice smell.

The only problem is that they haven't talked since last night, when Evan said that they'd talk about  _what happened_ later and then they didn't. Well... Evan wants to climb this tree, so now's just a good time as any.

Evan makes his way to Connor's bedroom, blushing to himself slightly as he thinks about the previous events. Tentatively, he knocks on the door and awaits an answer. Maybe he's not in his room? It's the middle of the day, so it would make sense if he were training. After waiting a few more seconds, Evan decides that that's where Connor must be. He turns and leaves, walking down the hall. He doesn't exactly know where he's going, but eventually figures it out after a few minutes of walking and slightly panicking that he was going to be stuck in this maze forever.

When he enters the training room, he notices the punching dummy, the weights, the mats on the floor, but mostly he just pays attention to the long haired boy in the white tank top as he lands an impressive kick onto the side of the previously mentioned dummy's head.

"H-hi. I thought I'd f-find you here." Evan says, talking louder than he usually does. He hadn't meant to stutter as much, but he suddenly felt super nervous.

Connor stops immediately and swivels around to face Evan, a sort of shocked looked on his face, panting slightly. Last time Evan had saw Connor sweaty and panting, he was on top of him. He pushes the image down from his head and clears his throat. "Here I am." Connor replies, wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist.

Evan nods, unsure what to say. "Now that I-I think of it, maybe I should have th-thought this through better." Talking about a potential relationship in a sweaty gym didn't feel ideal for Evan.

"Well," Connor says, shrugging. He makes his way over to a bench by the door so that he is closer to Evan, then grabs a water bottle. "You're here, so..." He takes a sip.

Evan didn't really know what to say. Using last night as an example, he'd expected Connor to take charge of the conversation, but he clearly wasn't going to. "I, uh, l-like you?" Evan says, but it comes out as more of a question.

Connor smiles. "Okay, good. I like you, too."

 

Evan is smelling that kind-of-pumpkin-spice smell right now, because Connor had helped him climb the big tree. They're in a tree! A big tree. A thick tree. One nice, humongous, fat, tree. Connor is seated on one of the thicker branches, right where it meets the trunk. He's laying against the trunk, legs handing on either side of the branch; Evan is sitting right in front of Connor, in between his legs, leaning back on him. Connor's arms are wrapped around him, like a really warm seatbelt.

A really warm pumpkin-spice seatbelt.

_____

Jeremy has always enjoyed the outside- trees and flowers and stars and planets. Everything outside was new and exciting. While Evan is proud of his extensive tree knowledge, Jeremy likes to keep what he knows under the radar. For example, right now he knows that he and Connor are sitting in a large clump of American Boxwood Shrubs. Why? Dinner.

No, they're not eating vegetation- actually, they're eating disgustingly greasy pizza, but they're both hiding in a bush for different reasons. Jeremy is hiding from his feelings (but they followed him there) and Connor isn't exactly hiding. He just likes the idea of eating pizza in a bush, and Jeremy said he needed to rant.

So, boom. Sitting in a bush. With a box of pizza. And a friend.

"-And then she dropped the gun because she was on fire, and it was kind of hot of Michael- ha, puns- because he was being really protective and threatening. But then he kept going, which was really worrying, and I sort of short circuited. Like, I've known I've liked him for a while now, and I've been kind of distraught about it. And then he goes and almost kills someone to protect me, which I deeply appreciate, but it also confused me a bit. So I'm taking some time to myself to figure it all out, and the whole agh-scary-fire thing is a reasonable explanation."

"Yeah," Connor says, nodding as he takes a bite out of the pizza. He nods with his entire upper body so that his shoulder bob up and down. "Christine's right, you're a dick."

"It's not like that!" Jeremy groans, putting his forehead into his hands and groaning despite the grease. He lifts his head back up after a few seconds to look at his bush-dwelling companion.

Connor throws his head back and starts imitating Jeremy with a high pitched voice, speaking over the half-chewed pizza in his mouth. "Hi, my name is Jeremiah Heere. I'm letting the dude who just saved my life for the second time now that I'm in love with think that I hate him because I'm confused!" He babbles, crossing his arms with an over exaggerated pouty face to emphasize the point.

Jeremy balls up his fist and groans in mock anger, but he knows Connor is right. "I'm not in love with him. That's... a lot." He squirms slightly, thinking about Brooke. He briefly wonders how she and Chloe are doing. "I just... don't know what to say to him. I'm not angry, but it was kind of scary seeing him like that." He looks down and starts pulling at the grass by his legs, twirling it around his finger and then tugging. "I remember thinking, 'I never thought he and Christine looked similar, but now, I see the resemblance'. " Jeremy shudders slightly.

"Michael wouldn't hurt you. I've only known him for, like, five days now, I think, but I just know that he wouldn't. You're super important to him- anyone could see."

"It was mostly just an excuse to sort out all my..." Jeremy makes a face and then wiggles around his hand in the air, looking at it like it was some sort of disgusting  _thing_ to crush. "Feelings."

"Oh my god. You're such a dick. He feels terrible and you're ignoring him because you're The Big Gay."

Jeremy sighs and puts his heads in his hands, a feeling of discontent and discomfort growing in his stomach. It makes his mouth taste bad and his throat feel dry. "I just know he won't like me back. He's all smart and cool and  _magical_ apparently and I'm just Jeremy." The words remind him of when he and Michael were first at the purple tree, and Michael had insisted that Jeremy was more special than he thought. It felt weird thinking about that time, because Jeremy had thought of Michael as just a footman. Now he's so much more.  _So_  much more.

Connor gives one quick laugh and starts eating the remaining crust of his pizza, using his entire head to pull back he bite. "Nah. Mell totally has it bad for you.  _Bad_. _"_

"How would you know?" The curly-haired boy asks, starting to break apart his own crust and throwing the pieces at Connor's face.

"I knew when Evan had it bad for me, and now he's my boyfriend and I can kiss him whenever. Take my advice." The boy says, putting his hand on Jeremy's shoulder despite him hitting on the top of the head with his remaining pizza crust.

Jeremy deflates with a smile after Connor grabbed the crust from his hand and started eating. He rests his elbow on his thigh and rests his head on his hand, thinking about being able to kiss Michael whenever he wanted. On the cheek at the mall, on his forehead in the morning, on the lips while cuddling. "That sounds wonderful."

"Nuh-uh. Evan's mine."

"Not with Evan. With  _Michael_ , you dipshit."

Connor makes a small 'oh!' noise and then laughs at himself, nodding slightly as if he's just told himself a joke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christine has joined your party!  
> _____  
> Leave a kudos? <3


	14. jeremy fixes a very big problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was awesome to write! cherish it while it lasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love being cryptic! also, i'm going to camp now so here are five snazzy chapters for you guys to read.

After talking to both Connor and Christine, Jeremy is acutely aware of what he has to do. He knows that dinner is over, which means Michael probably is going to sleep soon while Christine is going to go out and spar with some of the military recruits. That would mean Michael would be alone, a perfect time for Jermey to go talk to him. He doesn't know exactly what to say- an apology? A confession?- but he knows that he's figure out when he gets there. He makes his way into the military headquarters, passing Connor's room (he hears Connor in there, shushing a giggling Evan), Larry and Cynthia's room (who were still oblivious to the crew's existence thanks to sneaking around and the parent's inherit lack of attention paying), and finally makes it to Christine's room. He hadn't been there before, but Michael had once said that it had a lot of remnants of her old personality, like how she had painted curly designs on the wall in a (dark) pink and how she kept a vase with flowers in there all the time. Light seeps from underneath the door, showing that Michael is most likely in there.

Jeremy opens the door carefully, trying to be quiet in case Michael is sleeping. He has a habit of falling asleep still dressed in day clothes and with the lights on due to how much he tires himself out from working without break throughout the day. Jeremy constantly tells him how he should get more rest, to which Michael always responds something about nightmares and then pretends the conversation never even happened. Jeremy would have to look into that further, one day, but he's going one problem at a time as of right now. "Jere?" He hears Michael asks as soon as he steps into Christine's room. That's where he had been staying since the whole fire-power incident. Jeremy enters the room completely and softly shuts the door behind it by leaning back on it. While he does that, Michael stands up from his seated position on a chair next to the bed in the back corner of the room, and then makes his way over to Jeremy with a slightly frantic look on his face, as if Jeremy may slip away at any seconds.

"Hey, Micah." Jeremy replies with a slight smile and takes a step forward so that his back isn't still pressed up against the wall.

Michael's face is extremely distraught; he reaches out to Jeremy, seemingly about to place his hands on his chest but them moving them at the last second to where his neck meets his shoulders. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He starts. He looks dishelved, like he'd been stressing out about something. Jeremy is almost definitely the cause of his stress, giving him a twinge of guilt. Michael doesn't deserve this. Michael deserves better. 

Still, Jeremy wants to make him feel better.  He frowns and reaches his arms up to grab Michael's shoulders in turn. "Don't be. I am."

"I shouldn't have lied- should've told you-" Michael disagrees, lifting his hands from Jeremy's body and starting to wave them around as if he were trying to grab two bugs that are both flying around on either side of Jeremy's head. Michael swallows hard and Jeremy starts to notice how he is breathing funny, causing him to instantly become more worried. He reaches up and grabs onto Michael's wrists in an attempt to calm him down; he brings his hands to rest in front of his chest. Michael glances at them, but then instantly back up at Jeremy's face. He's still breathing weird- shallow and fast, like he were drowning but trying desperately to stay afloat and to get enough oxygen.

"I'm not mad. I promise. It's okay." Jeremy reassures. He tries his best to sound gentle and kind and  _loving_ towards his friend, even though he's never been the sort of person who is good at emotions. Like with Brooke, how he had royally screwed that up because the thought of A Feeling made him so uncomfortable that he blew it all up. He didn't want to ruin his relationship with Michael- it seems more important than the one he had with Brooke, even though he valued their time together. Seeing Michael's sad expressions hurts Jeremy in a way that he can't (read: doesn't want to) explain. All Jeremy wants is for him to stop looking so tired and defeated; Michael is supposed to be happy! Happy is good. Michael deserves to feel good- who's Jeremy to take that away from him?

Michael looks shocked, almost like he's going to cry. His eyes are red, so it looks like he definitely was crying before Jeremy came in. "You're not mad?"

"Just... confused."

"I'm sorry. It's my fault. I should have told you." Michael starts apologizing again, looking down at their feet and shaking his head at himself. 

He tugs his hands away, but Jeremy holds on. "It's your fault I'm  _alive_ , Micah. You saved me. It was just- overwhelming, is all. That part is not your fault."

Michael breaks out into some sort of sad grin, like he's in shock. A tear slides down his cheek but gets caught by his nose, and more tears threaten to follow it. "I really thought I was going to lose you. You were telling me to go- you didn't even ask for help- you just wanted me to be  _safe."_

Jeremy nods. "Good thing you didn't go." He says, returning the smile in a much more sincere way. Michael lets out some sort of whimper before pressing his body against Jeremy's. Jeremy assumes it was supposed to be a hug, except his hands are currently bound against his chest so he couldn't wrap them around for a proper hug. In response, Jeremy releases his grip on Michael's wrists and they simultaneously hug each other.

Michael occasionally shudders or shakes in the other boys grip due to his silent crying; there's a silence for a very long time, just the two wrapped up in each other and the occasional noise that escapes Michael and the soft things Jeremy whispers.

"I thought," Michael begins after the extended amount of time with just the two of them. "I thought that you were scared of me."

Jeremy sucks in a silent breath and shakes his head against Michael's body. He didn't want Michael to feel like that- like he was dangerous. He knows that Michael and Christine are two separate people despite having the same Dad. And what happened with Christine was just misinformation; Jermey is coming to forgive her. But that doesn't apply to Michael, because he is already forgiven. Or maybe he's not forgiven, simply because he did nothing wrong and therefore there is nothing to forgive him for. He sighs and finds himself running his fingers through Michael's hair. He's about to stop until he realizes that Michael seemed to enjoy it, or, at least, he wasn't asking him to stop or showing any signs of discomfort. "I know that you would never hurt me. You've saved my ass too many times to throw that away." Jeremy chuckles a bit, and though Michael responds slightly, the joke doesn't completely land. Jeremy makes a point by pulling Michael a little bit closer to him, resisting the urge to plant a kiss on his forehead. They're so close- it would be so easy...

"I'm scared of me." It's weak, quiet, slightly drowned out through hiccups and sniffles, but it's Michael's voice. Jeremy frowns, waiting to see if he'll continue or if that's all he wanted to stay. "I should have stopped when she dropped the gun."

"Yeah. Probably." Is all Jeremy says because he's right. Killing that woman would have made Michael like... like... Squip, maybe. From the sounds of it, Squip didn't seem like a guy who doesn't murder people, especially because he sends people out to do it for him. Jeremy doesn't entirely know who Squip is, or why he has such horrible history with Michael's family, but something is telling him that when Michael took him to Version Two, a lot more was going on than Jeremy realized. Now, Jeremy is pretty sure that wherever they are, they aren't vacationing in some tropical Version. Maybe they're in danger, fighting some of Squip's goons. Maybe they're fighting Squip. Then that brings up another question- can other people travel between Versions, or is that just a Mell thing? Jeremy wants to ask Michael every single question that he has, physically preventing himself from just starting to vomit out all of his questions like a broken pipe.

Michael slowly starts to calm down. "Can we... go back to the barracks?" He asks.

Part of Jeremy wants to say, no, let's stay here just a little longer, please. But Michael wants to go. "Yeah, come on." He tentatively releases Michael from the hug. He'll ask questions later- tomorrow, maybe. Maybe they'll leave Version One and go back home earlier than planned, if Evan and Michael are up to it. Jeremy's certainly up for it. He's had a jack shit time here, between Christine and fire and Squip, Jeremy just wants to go back home in his own bed with Michael and sleep for approximately four weeks. He decides that once they get back to the barracks, he's going to do exactly that, and he's going to cuddle Michael and it's not going to be gay at all, he swears. It'll just be platonic. That's what it will be to Michael, at least. For Jeremy, it's more likely going to be his laying there and watching Michael because he's too- erm-  _excited_  to go to sleep with Michael being  _right there._

They eventually make it to the barracks and Jeremy is pleased to see that for the first night in a few days, Evan is actually there. While he doesn't dislike him and Connor and whatever they're doing, a small part of him still gets worried when he isn't there. He's scared the world is going to crumble away at his fingertips and he won't be able to do anything about it.

"Jer'my, 'm tired." Michael states, tugging at his arm. 

Jeremy nods. "Let's lay down."

"You're going to lay with me?" Michael asks, though Jeremy believes that it's more of a demand then a question. He nods again and Michael scrambles into the nearest bed, not seeming to care that he is still wearing the clothes from that day. At least it's not jeans or something- just sweatpants. They're still probably dirty, but Jeremy doesn't care. He makes his way into the bed with Michael and  _woah_ are they close together.

Jeremy adjusts his arm so it's resting underneath Michael's neck and snaking along to his lower back. Michael, in turn, pulls himself closer to Jeremy and slings an arm carelessly over his torso, as if this is something they do often. He makes a small sound before becoming silent again, eyes closed and breathing steady. Jeremy can't tell the exact moment that Michael falls asleep, but it happens at some point; as predicted, Jeremy just stares at him with some sort of dumbfounded look. How had he gotten so lucky as to have Michael in his life? Michael, who protects him with everything he has. Michael, who seems to find him funny and kind and makes him feel likes he's worth something. When he was prince, Jeremy always knew he was important to people, but he didn't think he would be anything without his crown. He was right- nobody seemed to care much anymore after the initial shock of his supposed death. Nobody, save his father, actually cared about his "death". Except he did become something without the crown. Michael showed- shows, really- Jeremy that he doesn't need a whole country to give him worth. He only needs one person, and that person is currently snuggling into his torso like he's done it a million times before. Jeremy would give anything for just a glimpse inside Michael's brain, to just know what he thinks of Jeremy, to just know what he thinks that something like this is. Something in him cannot wait for the next morning.

Next morning brings the promise of Michael.

So does right now.

Jeremy rests easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for 700+ hits!  
> Leave a kudos? <3


	15. now there's an even bigger fucking problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> haha fuck

The next morning is nice.

The afternoon is where it all goes to shit, but the afternoon hasn't happened yet, so Jeremy has no way of possibly knowing that right now.

Because right now is the morning after last night, meaning today is The Next Morning. It starts with Michael waking up in Jeremy's arms, so how can it possibly end so horribly? Jeremy doesn't have to worry about that for a more few hours.

He's just going to focus on Michael right here in his arms. The aforementioned boy starts to stir at what feels like 8 AM to Jeremy, which is a pretty close estimate to the actual time- 8:34 AM, to be exact. When Michael finally wakes up, he grumbles a little bit, snuggles into Jeremy, and then realizes that he's  _in the same bed as Jeremy and they're snuggling and Jeremy likes it._

He sits up straight (that's ironic) within a second from the sheer shock of that. He had really wanted to cuddle with Jeremy last night, so he made it happen. However, he didn't imagine that it would stick through the night, or that Jeremy would stay in bed with him throughout the night. Except Jeremy had fallen asleep with his fingers through Michael's hair, even if they are gone now due to Michael's sudden change in position.

"What's wrong?" Jeremy asks, voice slightly rough due to it being morning. So he hadn't fallen asleep playing with Michael's hair- he was awake and  _just_ doing it.

Michael swallows nothing except a Whole Lotta Gay. "Um, nothing."

"...Nightmare?" Jeremy asks tentatively, seemingly genuinely concerned.

Michael shakes his head immediately to reassure him that he's fine. "No, no. Just hadn't expected you to... stay." He pushes out, trying his best to remain calm. He swallows again, because that's what he does when he's nervous. He tries to swallow down the feeling of Awkward and Weird and Stupid. It doesn't work.

Jeremy frowns at Michael's statement, sitting himself up and placing a hand on his back on the shoulder blade closest to his arm. Michael's breath stutters. "Of course I'd stay with you."

Oh. Michael hadn't been feeling fragile or sad this morning, but the way Jeremy just said that made him feel raw, like every inch of him had been scraped clean. Of course. Of  _course_ Jeremy would stay with him. Because they're best friends, because Jeremy understands him more than anyone, because he'd do anything for him and Michael would return the favor. Jeremy had said it so plainly, like the statement is obvious, like they'll never leave each other. Michael hopes they never will. He wants to say something more so Jeremy will say something more so he can feel more of whatever emotion he's getting from Jeremy right now. "You don't have to." He decides on saying, because it's true. Jeremy didn't have to stay there all night- Michael would have been fine. He doesn't want Jeremy just.. laying there uncomfortably. Oh god, what if he had been the whole night, just laying there, wanting to leave but staying due to some stupid sense of obligation? Maybe he was too hot, or too cold, or too uncomfortable? Maybe Michael smelled. Oh god.

"I want to." Jeremy says, and Michael literally shudders. The words hit him and he feels it again- a shiver down his spine and warmth in his cheeks. Michael recognizes somewhere inside himself that he's hardcore in love with Prince Jeremiah Heere but his brain decides to ignore the realization for the most part in fear that he'll just fuck it up and then said prince would never want to kiss him or date him, let alone be his friend- not even an acquaintance.

Instead of a response, Michael settles on laying back down onto Jeremy's chest. They lean into each other, both more comfortable then they care to admit. For a while, they remain like this; the first sound come about ten minutes later. It's Evan waking up, squeaking when he sees them, and then telling them that he's going to see Connor and will be back later. Michael feels it when Jeremy laughs and says goodbye to Evan since he's laying on his chest- moments after, Jeremy's hand connects with his hair again. Michael briefly wonders how this situation can still be called platonic. He should say something.

Or maybe he shouldn't.

Just in case.

Jeremy, however, starts to move. "I'm hungry." He says.

Michael grumbles a response about not wanting to move, to which Jeremy just playfully pushes his shoulder. Michael sits up with Jeremy, looking at him. They both stare for a little longer than they should. They break off eye contact and remove themselves from the bed.

"So what are you going to get?" Jeremy asks quickly.

"Huh?"

"Breakfast."

"Oh. I dunno. You?"

_"Me?"_

"What are you getting for breakfast?"

"Oh! Eggs."

"Cool."

"Yeah, eggs."

"Eggs."

Michael nods staring down at his hands, wanting to say something more. He really should say something- not "eggs"- about what happened, because even his usually anxious brain can't come up with a reason as to why the cuddling and hair-playing with Jeremy could have been platonic. Maybe he should just shout out, "Hey! I like you a lot! Kiss me!" or something along those lines, even if it would be sufficiently awkward.

Oh, who is Michael kidding? He's not going to say shit. He's probably going to live platonically with Jeremy his entire life in a cabin in Version Two because they're both too scared to say anything, like that Thor in a Cabin erotica from Tumblr in one of the many, many Versions that he has visited.

The two make their way to the empty dining room, not exchanging many words, just waiting for Evan and Connor to show up with mounds of food. Nobody has learned of the trio's presence in this Version yet, and they intend to keep it that way. They come here every morning and wait for Connor to bring every option of food available in the main dining hall. No one seems to care or stops to notice that they're there, which pays off in this situation.

Like usual, Christine is there already. Though she doesn't have to, she eats with them every day, and she always makes it there before them. She was reading a book, but she put it down as soon as the two entered.

"Hey, Mikey. Jere."

Jeremy waves slightly, but Michael looks at her with a strange look.

"Your hair!" He exclaims, rushing forward to examine it's new length.

She responds with a smile and shaking her head aggressively so that her hair flies around everywhere, causing Michael to laugh, then grab her head to stop her. She looks at him, giggling. "Jeremy cut it! You like?"

Michael looks shocked, given Jeremy and Christine's history, but then his expression melts into a smile. "Yeah, you look like you again."

She makes a noise of contentness.

Connor and Evan bring in the food a few moments later.

They did not bring eggs.

_____

Afternoon.

Afternoon.

"Michael!" Jeremy screams in distress, reaching out. He's ineffective.

The afternoon is where it all goes to shit. Couldn't they have just had this? Why does it all have to end? They shouldn't have stayed. They should've been long gone, tucked off in Version Three Thousand Nine where nobody could find them no matter how hard they looked.

"Jeremy!" Michael calms out, struggle against the so-cold-almost-burning grip surrounding him, soaking through his clothes and turning his insides to ice.

This afternoon is where everything changes. The real game has begun, and Squip is just getting started.

Jeremy chokes as someone begins to choke him, not enough to kill him but enough to be uncomfortable. "Let go of him!" He pleads despite the constant pressure pressing into his throat relentlessly. He can smell the person around him, and she smells slightly familiar, like he'd been wrapped up around her before. He sees blonde hair from her head resting on his shoulder because they're pressed close together, but he wants to ignore who he knows it is. How?

This afternoon is a catalyst for death and destruction and pain and it started off this morning with a cuddle session, an oxymoron, something Jeremy would pay anything to get back to so he can say all the of the things they had  wanted to say that was hanging uncomfortably in the air.

"Jeremy!" Michael cries out again when the girl pulls out a knife and presses it to Jeremy's throat. Jeremy closes his eyes and feels a tear run down. He wants five minutes, please, just a five minute goodbye, please, please.

Michael tried, he tried so hard to explode into a ball of fire, tried to get away, but it didn't work. Something about the horrified expression on Jeremy's face that looked so much like how he looked when Michael first used the flames didn't allow him to do it. He tries to reuse the anger he felt then, but this situation is so different. In this situation, they're both screwed. Michael wonders, if he had just stopped instead of continuing to burn the woman, would Squip and Brooke be here? Is this his fault? That both of them are going to die, or be kidnapped, or something like that that's so horrible Michael refuses to consider it an option?

There's a woman with a vice grip on Jeremy, holding him back. A blonde woman,  _Brooke,_ is holding Jeremy back from Michael. What had happened? How had they gotten here? It was almost all too quick.

They were walking back to the barracks together, talking happily. They were so close, too. They were leaning into each other's lips, there was a promise of a kiss. There was a promise of future just a few seconds ago, a promise of both of them being able to say what they both desperately wanted to say. Jeremy had accepted that he was in love, for real love, and of course this happens once he's finally ready to admit that. Jeremy's love brings death and destruction and pain, just like this wretched goddamn afternoon. They almost had it all, and then Jeremy yanked back from Michael. At first, Michael thought that he had read the situation completely wrong and that Jeremy didn't want to kiss, causing his gut to twist with anxiety until he saw the real reason why-  _Brooke had yanked him back,_ with her glowing blue eyeswhich filled Michael with a different kind of anxiety. He didn't have time to think before he was grabbed by someone as well- he couldn't see their face, but the glowing blue lines on his hands gave away that it was Squip.

Jeremy and Michael had been inches apart five seconds ago, but now they might as well be miles apart from each other. There's a shout from somewhere from the exit of the head quarters- it belongs to a desperately scared Christine, and she's running froward as fast as her legs will take her to help. As Brooke adjusts her grip on Jeremy so her blade is pressing harder into his neck, he realizes that she's so much stronger than when they had first left- abnormally stronger, even though the arm he can see has no noticeable muscle gain. Like she's being... controlled.

Michael continues to struggle, clawing at the arms around him until his arms are tied back and he can't physically move any longer. He watches Jeremy shout, he watches Christine run, but neither of them are fast enough. He can feel the buildup of energy not from him, but from Squip. Time slows as he makes eye contact with Jeremy, trying to say so many unsaid things. Is this it? Fear crawls into him. If he had to go, he wants to tell Jeremy how he feels first. But Squip waits for no one.

Jeremy pushes out one quiet, weak question that shatters his heart. "Michael?"

Michael doesn't get to say anything before he and Squip flash blue and disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continue to start quest!  
> _____  
> Leave a kudos? <3


	16. please come back please oh god i can't think i can't breath i need you come back please, please-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> haha fuck (again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quest started!

"H-holy shit." Jeremy says. As soon as Michael and who Jeremy recognizes as the Rebel leader- must be nicknamed Squip, then- flashed out of existence, Brooke following him shortly after. Christine runs up next to him and stops, panting, moment later. Before she speaks, there is a shared looks between them that conveys every disgruntled and stressed though running around both of their minds.

Christine reaches out and grabs Jeremy arm rather harshly- a lot more harshly than she would have grabbed had her brother not just been abducted by a ruthless leader who had tried to kill all three of them and the Mell mothers at least once each before. "Jeremy!" Christine calls out, voice wavering slightly. She calls out like saying Jeremy's name shocked enough or loud enough would bring Michael back.

"What- what do we do?" Jeremy stammers out, turning to her. The pounding in his chest could be from Christine's harsh grip, but it's most likely because of everything that just happened. Everything that just happened... The scene replays in Jeremy's mind again and he gasps, knees stuttering. Michael's gone. Michael's gone and a murderous douchebag who hates him is the one who took him. Jeremy can hardly feel his body, except for his head, which is throbbing.

Christine stares between him and the plot of grass where Michael was moments before. "I don't... know..." She sighs, letting go and running her hand through her hair. "We should- Connor- Larry- find them."

"Larry can't know about me." Jeremy replies. He should sound more defensive, but he doesn't care. He'd tell the whole world about his presence if it meant Michael would be delivered back to him safely from Squip.

"But, Michael." Christine argues. Her voice is quieter than usual and Jeremy realizes he's seeing yet another side of her that no one has seen before.

"Okay. Michael." He repeats. She turns her head quickly to look at him, crossing her arms loosely; he meets her eyes and they share another tense moment of communication: they're risking it all and it's going to be worth it.

The standstill becomes a quick march to the front door of the headquarters, somewhere that Jeremy hasn't been for quiet a while- since he was around sixteen, but he can't remember the exact age. He expected for there to be guards, but it's just like any normal door. The security must start inside.

"What are you  _doing?"_ A voice hisses, pulling Jeremy back. A memory flashes in his head- being pulled away from Michael by Brooke- and he shouts, swatting at the voice. Connor receives a sharp slap to the face before Jeremy can realize what he's doing.

"It's Michael." Christine answers as Connor recomposes himself, grimacing slightly. Jeremy does the same, grasping the wrist of the hand that he hit Connor with. "Squip took him."

"Squip?" Connor asks, unfamiliar to the name.

"Scott Whip. Leader of the Deanian Rebels." She finishes. Connor's face goes slack in surprise, looking both concerned and scared. "Your dad can help."

"My Dad can't know-"

"I don't care." Jeremy responds weakly, shaking his head. "Connor, I didn't tell Michael. I was going to, but- I need to-"

Connor steps forward, obviously disliking the idea and extremely agitated. "You can't disregard the safety of your people and the security of your secret because you're in love with Michael." Jeremy realized this statement already, but he didn't care. They'd figure it out, but Michael needs to safe. Michael first, and then the rest of the world later.

"Evan has been sneaking out to your room almost every night, which means he walks past their room. That's not very secure." Jeremy retaliates.

"But we haven't been caught. You're  _intentionally_ turning yourself in! Plus, you know full well that they're usually out with Zoe or some stupid political meeting."

Jeremy huffs. "They're going to kill Michael." He spits out, angry and sad and confused.

The other boy stumbles on his words a bit before pulling himself together and managing to force out a sigh. "We can try to get him back ourselves," Connor offers. The look in his eyes tells Jeremy and Christine that he knows that wouldn't work. "You can't put the lives of everyone on the line for one person."

"One fire-wielding inter-dimensional-traveling magical person."

Connor answers with nothing more than an exasperated sigh. Jeremy feels his heart twist- he's losing, and he knows it. He feels an arm grab onto him and start pulling away, back towards the barracks. "Come on Jeremy, we'll figure something out. He'll be fine."

In the few minutes it takes to be pulled back into the barracks, past the bed where Michael slept every night, Jeremy thinks of only two things: Michael, and a plan so that he can get Michael back. Obviously, getting Larry and Connor to march an army wasn't an opinion any longer. Larry would end up letting it slip that Jeremy's alive after Connor convinces him that using their army for one person is a horrible idea. And it is. It seems as though every time Jeremy tries to think of an answer, it always leads to his identity getting revealed. Maybe that's just what he needs to do. He sucks in a large breath while Christine seats him on a bed and then lays down herself to stare at the bunk above them as he realizes something- his dad would protect him. That had always been his thought process. He can sneak into the palace, devise a plan with his Dad, and nobody would know about it. And he'd get to see his Dad. He straightens his posture and makes a funny sort of gasp, causing Christine to bolt up.

"You okay?" She asks quickly, staring at him.

Jeremy swallows thickly then nods. "Yeah. Um, I have an idea."

She scrambles forward onto her knees to give Jeremy her full attention.

"Right. I know a lot of ways to sneak into the palace because I used to sneak out to go the garden," Jeremy starts. Christine nods to show she's following. "I can sneak in and find my Dad-"

"Oh, Jeremy." She frowns.

"Just wait. I can find my Dad, swear him to secrecy. Then I can have him try to discuss some sort of peace treaty with Squip-"

"Squip's a murderer!  _Peace_ -"

"Just wait!" Jeremy shouts. She frowns but shuts her mouth so he can start again. "He'll go there saying he wants a peace treaty, and we can ambush Squip. We won't need an army, just a few people who can fight!"

Christine scans his face- excited for the plan- for a moment before nodding. "That could work! Hopefully Connor would help." They both ignore how much it could possibly not work. They both ignore the faults and the ways it can go wrong because of one simple reason: there's a way it could go right.

"If Evan did, he'd follow. And Evan will help."

"We still need to discuss other things, though. Who would be fighting? How would we keep your identity a secret?"

Jeremy pushes his lips into a line as he mulls over the questions. No matter what option is chosen, he knows that his identity will most likely be revealed. However, it's Squip who wants him dead. Who wanted him dead. Who blew up his castle and set this whole situation up. "If Squip's defeated, then there won't be a reason for me to stay in hiding. I would save Michael, and hopefully regain the throne. Or at least be able to say hi to my Dad whenever I want to." He smiles sadly. "I really miss him."

Christine lets out a soft 'awe' before tentatively wrapping her arms around him- he's a little shocked at first, but doesn't feel the gut-wrenching fear he once did. A small part of his brain is telling him, no, she's dangerous, but the other part knows that she's not. He slowly returns the hug, causing Christine to relax. She lets out a sob. Oh.

"Christine?" He asks, shocked. She pulls him closer.

"It's just- Michael- he's always been there for me- and what Squip can be doing to him- I just- and you and I- I'm just- I- miss my family- too-" She stammers over his shoulder, full on crying. He doesn't know exactly what to do; though he isn't afraid of the girl sobbing in his arms right now, he also doesn't consider her a  _friend,_ but now she's baring her soul to him. It makes sense. She knows that Jeremy is in love with Michael, and she loves Michael too. Michael's forced disappearance is still a weird situation to bond over.

Jeremy continues hugging her anyways.

 

 

Jeremy is in Christine's room, sitting on the bed Michael was sitting on. The pink in it seems duller, especially once she left. He can totally see the girl that Michael and Evan had sworn is in there- maybe, one day, everything will be okay enough that he really gets to meet her. However, the bubbly personality is tucked away under layers of hurt and confusion, which is why Christine is letting out her discontent on a training dummy with one of her scary military friends rather than sitting on her bed and crying like Jeremy is. He needs to tell Evan about what happened if Connor hasn't already.

But for now, he's just going to sit and think and cry in this absurdly happy room, even when it seems so dull- it's offensively pink. Offensively bright. It's an offensive room, taunting him for his sadness, telling him to suck it up, push it down, move on, and he hates the pink. However, it's the only place where he can sob without being scared that Evan is going to walk in and then he has to talk about what happened before he's ready.

He's not ready.

He's not ready for any of this, really. He misses his Dad, but sneaking into the palace is going to be hard and even then he may not agree to the plan; Brooke is suddenly in this Version, which means that Chloe and other may be, too, like Evan's mom, which is another thing that he has to tell Evan about. Hopefully Connor will do it so Jeremy doesn't have to. The thought of it makes his stomach twist.

The thought of all of it makes his stomach twist.

The thought of Michael's scared face, the thought of his own weak voice, the way they started glowing blue in front of him and around him and then the way he was just  _gone_.

Jeremy gags and slaps a hand over his mouth, suppressing the urge to empty the contents of his stomach onto the floor below. He doesn't know what exactly is making him feel so sick- is it the helplessness? The unspoken words that could have been spoken if they just had five more minutes?

Maybe it's because Jeremy has no idea whats happening to Michael.

Anything could be going on; Michael could be alone in a closed-off room, or be getting tortured by the deranged maniac that is Squip. The thought of Michael scared and in pain causes his throat to convulse again, but nothing comes out except for a groan.

Mostly, Jeremy just feels stupid. And confused. For example, how the  _hell_ had Brooke been there? He didn't see her face, but the hands and the hair and the smell of her were all enough of a clue to let Jeremy know of her presence. That begs the question: why is she working with Squip? Is Chloe? Brooke seemed upset about the breakup, but she had initiated it and seemed to be better off with Chloe anyway. Well, maybe not, because at least one of them are aiding in the efforts to kill Jeremy, but they had seemed happy together before everything went down.

Jeremy wants to be happy, but that seems more and more impossible every day that passes. Michael's gone, and it sucks.

Michael had set himself on fire, almost killed a person, defied what Jeremy thought of certain death when he had a gun pressed to his head.

When Squip had grabbed Michael, Jeremy just stared.

That's the last thing that Michael had seen of Jeremy. Him staring stupidly and helplessly, doing nothing.

Jeremy has to make sure that's not the last Michael sees of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudos? <3


	17. blonde hair, blue eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> self harm trigger warning. it is threatened, not completed. it starts at *** and when you see *** again, it's ended. also, for those who need clarification, this entire chapter is a flashback to right after the puppy love breakup, except from Brooke's point of view.

_"That was kind of bitchy of you." Chloe snorts, stomping through the woods with Brooke, who is quite now, who is usually quiet never. The solution Chloe has is to make her laugh. It isn't working._

_Brooke sighs, brushing a branch from a tree out of her face as she makes her way along the path. "Yeah, I know." She says with a frown plastered on her face. She tugs at the sleeve of her yellow cardigan with a guilty expression on her face, staring towards the forest floor littered with leads to make sure that she doesn't trip. Brooke is leading them to her parent's house, wanting to get away after just breaking up with Jeremy._

_Chloe realizes how upset Brooke is over the breakup. She hadn't meant to upset her. "Whoops. That was mean, right?"_

_The girl shrugs passively, continuing her steady rhythm on the path. "I know you were trying to make a joke. It's just not the time."_

_"My bad." Chloe says, following Brooke's footsteps. They've walked this path many times before, but as best friends. Now they're something more. They've been something more for years now, but both had been too scared to say anything- Brooke was ranting about how closed off emotionally Jeremy was, how she felt unseen and unlovable, and Chloe had let it slip. It was a good decision- telling Brooke she loves her- because the shocked yet blissful look on her face made up for every second they spent denying what they felt. Brooke said she can't do anything with Chloe, though, until she broke up with Jeremy. She had split with him the next day, which brings them to this path to go tell Brooke's parents the happy news._

_"I feel bad about it. I can't imagine how I'd feel if Jeremy broke up with me for Michael or Evan after confessing his love for me." Brooke explains. Her voice is soft and sad. "I-"_

_Chloe shushes her, causing her face to grow into an expression of betrayal. She goes to say something, but Chloe lurches forward and cover her mouth, looking off ahead of them. Brooke's eyes dart around, trying to see what she sees. Chloe shushes her again and then slowly moves her hand. "Did you see that?" She whispers._ _Brooke shakes her head. "Off in the distance. It was blue." Brooke shakes her head again._

_"Chloe-" She begins, her voice at normal volume, but her mouth is swiftly covered again by a soft hand. The girl starts walking closer to whatever she saw- Brooke rolls her eyes and follows, deciding to play into whatever the hell she is doing._

_As they get closer, Brooke notices the flashes of blue- Chloe shoots her a look that says 'I told you so'. When they finally get closer, it's easy to see that the blue is actually a person- a little boy, no older than ten, who looks absolutely normal if they didn't pay attention to the blue lines on his skin._

_He turns to them, a calm smile on his face. "Hello!"  He grins, displaying two missing teeth._

_"Hey." Chloe says softly, leaning towards him. Brooke latches onto her arm, making a noise of surprise. "Are you out here alone?" She asks._

_"No! Dad is with me, always." He replies, as if it's obvious. "His name's Squip! He says he makes sure I'm safe and happy." He ends his statement with a finalizing nod, as if he is reassuring himself that that fact is the truth._

_"Chloe, I think we should go home." Brooke says, voice strained. She tugs on her arm. "Please."  
_

_"This kid's alone. And your parents live this way-"_

_"Chloe. Now." She hisses, causing Chloe's eyes to narrow suspiciously._

_"Okay."_

_The two shuffle away in the opposite direction after giving the boy a quick goodbye- he returned it, and started running around again. When they're out of earshot, Chloe pulls Brooke behind a tree so there is no way the boy could see them and demands an explanation for what happened._

_Brooke gapes at her, running a finger through her hair calm herself down before beginning. "That's Little Mark. He's not with his Dad." She explains quickly._

_"He said-"_

_"I know what he said, but he lives down the street with his uncle because his parents are dead. Squip isn't his dad. And his skin! Something's wrong. That's not- Mark doesn't talk like that. I remember he was always so sad and quiet and still, he never played, he just read. That's not Mark. Something's... Squip is what's wrong. I don't know who that is but he's bad."_

_Chloe looks at her with a shocked expressions, scanning her for some sign of a joke that is being played. There is none. "Maybe he just... got over it? Maybe Squip is some sort of father figure other than his uncle. Brooke, you're being super paranoid."_

_Brooke swallows and nods. "His skin is sort of..._ glowing _. That's not normal!"_

_"It could be some sort of paint. It's dark out, especially under all these trees. Glow in the dark? It's not, like, that bright of a glow." Chloe suggests, rubbing Brooke's arm slowly._

_"Right. Yeah. Because skin doesn't glow, ever. That's not... possible." Brooke agrees. Chloe nods her head._

_"Just calm down and we'll start walking in a bit. You wanna sit down?"_

_"The ground is dirty."_

_"You can sit on my lap." Chloe wiggles her eyebrows up and down with a giggle. Brooke responds by playfully pushing her chest away, and they both a share a laugh._

_Brooke fixes her hair, which is messy because she kept adjusting it. "Sorry, that whole thing was stupid of me."_

_"A little." Chloe teases, earning another playful push. "I love you." She says afterwards, taking a step closer to Brook and leaning in three-quarters of the way for a kiss._

_"Love you, too." Brooke replies, closing the gap and pressing her lips against Chloe. She has to go on her tip toes a bit since Chloe isn't leaning down as much as she usually does, but it doesn't bother her. Both of the girls are too caught up in each other to realize that the boy with glowing blue skin is making his way around the tree, eyes landing on the kissing girls._

_"Excuse me, misses?" He asks, causing Brooke to jerk away from Chloe- she doesn't want anyone knowing about them yet, and she especially doesn't need her parents to find out from a rowdy ten year old. She accidentally slams herself against the tree, hitting her head hard. She winces._

_Chloe's eyes widen. "Brooke!" She gasps. The injured girl grips her head._

_"Sorry to scare you! Squip said he needs you."_

_"W-what?" Brooke asks, grimacing._

_The boy smiles a smile too large for his face as the blue lines glow brighter along with his normally brown eyes that are now even brighter than what's on the rest of his body. "I need you." He repeats, the voice coming out with a deeper voice layered on top of it, like two people are speaking from his body at once. His usual carefree demeanor is no longer there, instead replaced as he walks forward by a confident one not fit for such a young child. Brooke steps back, but Chloe doesn't react- he grabs onto her arm and pulls down. That's when she reacts with a shocked scream. It's too late by then. The boy reaches to her head with his tiny hands; the blue lines slither like snakes to gather at his hands so that they alone shine like a small sun against Chloe's head. She stares at him, seemingly frozen as the glowing in his left hand becomes more and more compact before it produces a small pill in his palm._

_"Swallow this."_

_"What?" Chloe blinks at it but doesn't move, eyes glazed over. The glowing of the right hand still on her head becomes brighter._

_"Chloe?" Brooke asks, eyes wide as she backs up from the scene. She doesn't know what's happening and she doesn't want to figure it out._

_"Swallow this." He repeats, bringing the pill in front of her. Eyes still glazed, Chloe immediately obeys, grabbing the pill from his hand and shoving it in her mouth._

_Brooke break out into a run after watching it all in obscene horror. She hears two people running behind her shouting things, but she doesn't care. Whoever Squip is cannot be good, because whatever just happened was not Mark and was not Chloe. Whoever is chasing her now is not Mark and not Chloe. She runs as fast as she can, trying not to focus on how eerily in sync the running of the two is behind her. Her heart pounds. Her throat is raw. She is gasping for air, but she doesn't stop running. Where is she running to? She's so far off of the trail- she's not on her way back home, or to her parents house. She is just running, running, running._

_"Brooke!" A shout pierces through- before all the yelling and demands were masked by a male voice, but this time, it's just Chloe._

_Brooke stops, gasping for air and turns around to face Chloe. There is glowing cyan running along her skin like how it was with Mark, little snakes slithering around._

_***_

_Instead of just standing there with a scary smile like how she was expecting, Chloe is holding a knife to her wrist. Brooke stops breathing. "Chloe, what are you doing?"_

_"I think you should stop running."_

_"Okay. I stopped. Put the knife down." The knife Chloe carried was intended for protection. A just in case, something never to actually be used._

_"I think you should come here."_

_Brooke looks to her best friends slack face, then to the knife pressed lightly against her skin. "O-okay. Will you put down the knife?"_

_"Come here and find out."_

_She shudders and walks closer, stepping slowly, staring at the knife. When she's about two feet away from the two, she pauses. Mark reaches out his right hand, and like before, the lines all gather up in it and compact themselves into a pill._

_"Swallow it."_

_"N-no! Chloe!"_

_Chloe shrugs and starts pressing the knife in- no skin can break and no blood can come out before Brooke shouts and begs her to stop. "I can stop it. Swallow the pill, Cookie." She says._

_Normally, the endearing nickname is welcomed by Brooke, but this time it just felt cold and forced. It never sounds like that, which sends a shudder through Brooke's spine as she continues to stare at the knife dangerously close to Chloe's arms. Her brain produces an image of Chloe lying on the forest ground, surrounded in a puddle of her own blood flowing from her wrists, without her permission. She audibly gasps._ _"Okay! Okay, give me it." She says, sticking her hand out. Mark drops it in her palm. She stares at the pill, unable to move for a few seconds. The knife is slipped into Chloe's back pocket nonchalantly, like it was just a harmless piece of paper._

_***_

_**(didn't read: chloe convinced brooke to take the pill. she is now holding it.)** _

_"Hurry up!" Mark demands.  
_

_Robotically, Chloe turns to him. "This host's memories show that her brother overdosed on pills when she was nine years old. Since then, she's feared them. Her resistance is understandable and not an act of rebellion." Chloe explains._

_Brooke softens, if only a little bit. Chloe is possessed by some sort of magical glowy pill and she's still protecting her. Maybe it's not Chloe, just Squip passing off information to another one of his vessels, but the idea that Chloe is still in there is comfort enough that Brooke finds it possible to bring the pill to her lips, throw her head back, and swallow it as quickly as possible._

_After only a few seconds, she feels her posture change without moving. A man appears behind Chloe and Mark._

_"Brooke Lohst. Your parents were wondering about you. I'm sure they'll be glad to see you chose correctly." He says, smirking. The voice is like the one layered over the other two. This is Squip. "Don't worry. You'll never have to worry about another thing again, I promise. Now, I have a little deal I'd like to suggest."_

_"What is it?" Brooke asks it, though no noise comes out of her lips._

_"I keep Chloe and your parents safe in their village," He starts, walking closer to Brooke to the point where his form phases through Mark and Chloe so that he's only inches away from her. "And you come with me. The Mell daughter is making a glorious mistake, and I intend to use it to my advantage."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chloe has taken damage!  
> Brooke has taken damage!  
> _____  
> Leave a kudos? <3


	18. spiderman? more like spider,.,..jere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jeremy's plan begins. he's a wall climbing superhero. i hope it goes well.

Evan fiddles with the edge of his shirt with a frown on his face, focusing on a particularly interesting freckle place on top of his wrist. "Well, shit." Evan mumbles, squeezing his eyes tight and crumbling his shirt into his fist.

Jeremy blinks. Evan doesn't curse a lot. It makes sense, though, to curse now. Jeremy cursed a lot before- he had been throwing cups at Christine's wall because he liked how it looked as they shattered and fell to the floor. Christine had came in a few minutes later after someone texted her asking her to stop banging around. She had rushed to the room, and then they both cried again. Christine doesn't like crying, but she seems to be doing it a lot lately.

Evan reaches forward and grabs Jeremy's wrist with his uninjured arm. "You okay?" He asks.

"Not really." Jeremy shakes his head as if he were shaking off the question. "And you knew Michael longer."

Evan chews his lip. "Well, yeah, but I didn't know him. Not like you did."

Jeremy stares at the boy with wide eyes, causing Evan's gut to twist. He did something wrong, he can tell, by the expression. "Do. Not like I do." Jeremy corrects, lips slightly parted. He's pale, like he can see a ghost. Truth is, Jeremy has no idea of the condition that Michael could be in right now, but neither does anyone else. Either of them could be correct.

"D-do." Evan repeats quickly. "Yeah, o-of course, I j-just m-meant, like, that- w-well-"

"Anyway, are you in?" Jeremy interrupts, not bothering to hear some stammered apology from Evan- what he really needs to know is if Evan is willing to come with them if Jeremy's plan with his Dad works and an ambush is a viable option for the group to save Michael with.

Evan nods. "Y-yeah! I can't fight or do all this weird tech stuff, though, so I don't know how I could help?" He explains, the statement coming out more like a question.

Christine is behind Jeremy with her arms crossed; she'd been quiet until now. "I can teach you some moves. But you'd probably end up with a gun. Your arm is a real setback, but we need as many people as possible."

"A... gun." Evan states, eyebrows furrowed. "Me?"

Christine nods simply. "The point and shoot kind." She teases as Jeremy stands up from his seated position. He wants to go back to Christine's room (he can't bare to be in the painfully empty barracks anymore). "You won't be any professional, but you can learn to shoot a gun faster than you can learn to fight." She gesticulates with one hand as the other remains across her chest like it here still crossed with an imaginary third arm. Instead of focusing on her, Evan just stares at the one moving hand until she finishes her rant about how she learned to shoot a gun with almost perfect accuracy in a month. Jeremy wanted to be sick when she said 'a month' because he doesn't think they have that long. This ambush has to happen soon. Like, no more than two days in the future soon, which means he'll probably have to see his Dad today.

He voices this opinion to Christine, who nods and promises that she'll find more people willing to keep Jeremy a secret and attack Squip, then giving him a small knife for him to pocket.

Jeremy leaves for the palace with his jacket wrapped around him and covering his face.

 

 

He hadn't expected to be this nervous as he makes his way into an underground door about a mile from the castle. He had learned about it when he was twelve- there are three of them, and this one attaches to his bedroom. Another one connects to his father's room, then an empty room, and an extremely large one that connects to the footman's quarters. This one is narrow enough to fit one person comfortable, but two skinny people could probably fit walking side by side if the went at at awkward angle. That isn't necessary to know, but Jeremy doesn't have much else to think about as he walks a mile underground with nothing but the orange lights on the floor directing him on where to go. As it gets warmer, he knows that he's getting closer to the busy palace. When he hears a loud clang, he has to pause. The clang sounded close.

He's underneath the palace.

His breath hitches and he claps his hands over his mouth, even if it doesn't matter that he made a noise. No one could hear him. The sudden shock of being so close to home rips through him and he fights back a sob, forcing himself to composed himself and get walking. The sooner he gets to his Dad, the sooner Michael is safe. He continues walking down the winding path until he spots an outline of a door on the ceiling, which should be connected the floor of his closet. He dashes towards the light, to the promise of home, of familiarity. Of a safety he hasn't realized he's missed until he's climbing the ladder, shoving open the door, and clamoring onto the floor of his closet. He kicks the door closed, secures it, and then falls in a heap on the floor. He lays there for a bit, staring at his old clothes. This area of the palace is more secure, which is probably why the Deanian bombers didn't make it over here- however, Jeremy wouldn't be surprised if the rest of the palace were completely remodeled. He still hadn't expected all of his stuff to still be exactly where he left it that day, but it is. He pulls himself into a standing position and exits the closet into his room. It smells exactly how it used to- there's a candle lit in there, too. Which means that his father or someone comes every day to light it. His stomach twists when he sees the picture of himself next to it- a picture that wasn't there before. Oh. The candle must be some sort of memorial. It's definitely his Dad's.

He sits on the bed and stares at the sheets- untouched. They literally haven't been moved in three months. The bed isn't made, still, because Jeremy doesn't make his bed in the morning, even when he lived with Michael.

The thought of Michael again feels violating and he immediately stands from the bed like it were suddenly burning the bottoms of his thighs.

He smooths down the front of the shirt with a sigh and surveys the rest of the room- there isn't much to see. Now all that he has to do is find a way to get to his Dad without being seen.

Jeremy knows that his father is down the hall, but he does know that there are guards outside the room at all times. He can't just walk past them and hope they don't recognize him, so what is he going to do?

The answer is: something incredibly stupid. He pulls his hood over his head and covers with mouth with the jacket-cape hybrid and grips onto his window sill; never had he been happier that this side of the building is facing the forest so that passerby can't see him. The opens the window slowly and silently as possible, then taking a step onto the sill and holding himself up. He pushes himself through the window so that the upper portion of his body is outside. It's all just a balancing act from here- all he has to do is shuffle along the ledge on the wall and try not to fall. Then, when he gets to the window, he can open it and jump inside to talk to his Dad or to sit and wait for him to come.

Jeremy does just that, squeezing his eyes shut tight and pressing his forehead against the palace exterior with a grimace on his face. Every gust of wind feels like a betrayal; he grips the wall desperately for traction. The one thought that keeps him going is the scared look on Michael's face before he blinked out with Squip- whatever fear Michael felt then must be worse than whatever Jeremy is feeling now.

He feels a lurch and lets out a gasp- his foot had slipped minutely; he regains control, but even a minute mess-up could have cost him his life. He pauses for a few moments to regain his steady breathing before shuffling the rest of the way over to his father's window.

He crouches by the window to the best of his ability, realizing that he can't get inside without breaking said window. Tentatively, he pulls out the pocket knife. He could break the window with this, if he angles it correctly; if it doesn't break, the force would probably send him reeling backwards onto the ground below and then he'll hit it like a pancake. That wouldn't help anybody.

He stares at the blade before aiming it towards the lowest edge of the window at an angle. He pulls his arm back and shuts his eyes before opening them again because he needs to see where he's hitting; then, without properly realizing he's doing it, he sends the knife plummeting towards the glass. Too late to give up now. The blade hits against the window and in response it shatters to a bunch of bits. There's a deep scream from inside that is definitely his Dad.

Jeremy smiles and leans through the window almost head first, but recalibrates himself before he slams into the floor. He stumbles a bit as he regains balance, but all around, he's fine. Just panting. "Okay, don't freak out." Jeremy pleads, holding his hands out once he sees his properly shocked Dad.

"Jere... my?" He says, eyes glistening.

"Yeah, Dad, sit down, we have to talk."

"Jeremy, you're alive!" He shouts, throwing his arms opens with a wide grin plastered on his face.

Jeremy shushes him with a finger pressed to his lips. "Sit down, Dad, let's talk."

King Paul searches Jeremy's face and ends up complying, sitting on the bed. "What- why- how?"

"When the bombing happened, I escaped to another universe with an inter-dimensional footman of ours and then I fell in love with them. And now the leader of the Deanian Rebels took them and I need your help to fucking obliterate him."

"What." The King deadpans. "Jeremy, we have to tell-"

"No! No, no. Nobody can know I'm alive. I just need to defeat Squip and go back to another dimension, it's not anything big. I promise I'll visit- please, Dad." Jeremy begs, clasping his hands together in front of his chest.

King Paul stares at him with some sort of amused bewilderment and the whole situation- seeing your presumed dead son back from the presumed dead after about four months of his presumed death-ness is most likely very shocking and deeply traumatic, especially if he just admitted that he's in love and has been hopping across different universes while everyone else wallowed in grief mourning the death. "H-how can I help you, son? I'm so glad you're okay."

Jeremy smiles and, before creating any plan, launches himself forward into a tight hug with his father, who so desperately seems to need it. Paul eagerly returns the hug, pulling Jeremy closer to him possessively; this feels good. Jeremy should have came back to visit his Dad sooner- of course he can trust him, he's his dad, for god's sake.

After a few short minutes, the two pull out of the hug and start discussing what is going to happen.

First, Paul will need to ask Mr. Scott Whip if he would be interested in signing a declaration of peace, to which Squip will accept. He'll then request that the signing takes place in his area of the country, if Jeremy guesses correctly, which is exactly what he's supposed to do.

From there is where step two comes in. Jeremy, Christine, Evan, Connor, and whoever else Christine gets will follow him around as discreetly as possible. Then, on Jeremy' signal, they'll all attack and assure that Michael comes back safely.

Part three is to get Michael safe and sound by Christine, Jeremy, and Evan all going back to a new Version with Michael where they're safe, since Brooke's state revealed that Squip most likely started taking over Version Two.

Part fourth and final part is going to be the hardest one: to tell Michael that he loves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> King Heere has joined your party!  
> _____  
> Leave a kudos? <3


	19. micah miah and chris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow hi! I'm back from camp so I'll be posting again! Please be patient because my posting schedule may be a little off for a bit. SOrry! Hope you enjoy!

Is it possible to feel darkness?

To feel the black tendrils snaking on your skin?

The cold lack of light tickling? Mocking?

It must be possible, because Michael can feel every second of the mind-numbing blackness that is his life. Michael, in a room, a dark room, with no way out, with his hands chained down to the floor. Michael, who's eyes are wide open yet there's only darkness no matter how much he blinks. Maybe he's gone blind? He's going crazy, that's for sure.

However, he knows he hasn't gone blind after an unknown amount of time since Squip took him because a door opens. Light pours in and Michael refused to blink, forcing his eyes to soak in the light, even though it burns.  _Light._

In the center of the doorway stands a figure that Michael can't just make out yet. He shuffles forwards on his knees. Maybe it's Squip. He doesn't care. He's gone numb, he just wants  _something_ other than  _nothing._

The figure walks slowly over to Michael, it's voice cracking. "Michael." It hisses, voice laced with worry. It crouches down in front of him and begins pulling at the chains around his wrist and attached to the floor that rub his skin raw and bloody. "What did he do to you?" The worried voice grows more into panicked fumble.

" 'Miah." Michael responds. He hasn't talked in a while- he doesn't know how long it's been since he had first arrived in the room.

"I'm here for you." Jeremy replies with a smile. He tugs on the chains again, trying to figure out how to remove them.

Michael waits patiently, continuously clearing his throat in order to get himself ready to talk more. He speaks up eventually. "How'd you find me?" He asks.

Jeremy smiles again, cupping Michael's face in his hand. "I'd freeze over hell for you, Michael."

Michael sinks into the touch, hanging his head and letting a small sob shudder out of his body. He goes to look up at Jeremy.

He gasps.

Jeremy stares back at him with a line of blood dribbling from his mouth, ignored, as if Jeremy didn't feel it. He continues trying to unshackle Michael, but then he coughs. More blood splatters onto Michael's shirt. Both of their eyes go wide.

"Jeremy! What's- wrong?"

"Nothing." Jeremy replies quickly, trying to maintain the focus on Michael. However, Michael reaches forward with his clasped hands and pulls the jacket Jeremy is wearing to the side to reveal a growing splotch of blood seeping from a stab wound. "It's nothing, I'm fine." Jeremy quickly lies, shaking his head. "Let's focus on getting you... home..."

"Jeremy?"

They make brief eye contact. Jeremy wobbles. He collapses to the floor, more blood beginning to pool around him. Michael screams.

"Jeremy!" He calls, scrambling forward to apply pressure on the wound. He sticks his hands out to cover it and-

And the chain holds him back, just inches from Jeremy's body. He pulls his arm back and tries again, but the chain reaches it's maximum length before he can come in contact with the bleeding boy.

"Please... help... sorry..." Jeremy mutters.

"I-I'm trying! Y-you're too- too far!"

"Help..."

"I-I-"

"Michael-"

"Someone help me!" Michael calls out, momentarily taking his eyes off of the body- not the body, no, it's  _Jeremy_ , he's alive- to look out the door. Maybe Christine is close by. He looks back at Jeremy.

Except Jeremy isn't there.

Not the body or the blood or the wobbling voice.

Instead, Squip reclines against the wall. "Interesting."

"What did you do with Jeremy?"

"I did nothing."

"He was-"

"He wasn't." Squip replies cooly. He gives Michael an overconfident smirk. "I am Jeremy. Or, at least," There's a wave of blue through Squip, scanning him and transforming him into the same Jeremy from before, except leaning against the wall this time. There's another wave of blue and Squip is back to normal, with an even larger sick and twisted grin. Michael feels like hurling. "I was that Jeremy. It was a very interesting experiment."

"Experi...ment..." So that's what it was. Jeremy dying in front of Michael, Michael unable to help, it was an experiment. Michael is a lab rat. A joke. A dummy. He is the control group and the experimental group and the variable and he is the experiment. His reactions are data. His feelings are statistics.

"I've collected a lot of information from that interaction of yours. I had no  _idea_  the bond between you and Jeremy is romantic. That can be useful."

"It's not." Michael says, like that's what matters in the moment. Fucking  _stupid_.

"Unrequited love? Even better."

"It's not-" Michale shuts his mouth. He's not talking to Squip about his (lack of a) love life.

"Well, this was fun. For me at least. I'll see you later,  _Micah_." Squip replies, standing up. When he said Michael's name, he made sure that it wasn't his own voice, but Jeremy's saying it.

Michael softens and collapses in on himself, hanging his head so that his chin is resting on his chest. He's too... everything. Too tired, too sad, too angry, too humiliated, too stupid. "Wait." He croaks out. The footsteps of Squip stops. "How long have I been here?"

There's a low chuckle from above him from Squip. "Six hours."

He leaves.

The door closes, leaving him once again in the darkness.

Six hours was all it was, and Michael had been convinced he had been in there at least a day. He's stuck with no measurement of time and a sadist experimenting on him. What's next? Michael can't handle seeing Jeremy die again, even if it were fake. Squip looks to much like him, sounds too much like him, acts too much like him for Michael to stay sane if this so-called "experiment" goes on much longer. He's already losing it. This isn't helping.

The darkness isn't helping. He can still hear fake-Jeremy groaning. He can still see fake-Jeremy bleeding. Dying. He can still feel fake-Jeremy's hand on his cheek in a way that had been the more comforting feeling in the entire world at the time.

Michael feels tears well up in his eyes. He wants Jeremy. He wants Christine. He wants his moms, but there's no way to contact any of them.

Is it possible to feel darkness?

To feel the black tendrils snaking on your skin?

The cold lack of light tickling? Mocking?

Michael can feel it all. It burns more than his bleeding wrists.

_____

"I can't believe you." Connor deadpans, shoving more weapons into whatever pocket he can fit them in. He begins angrily lacing up his boots on the bench in front of him, eyes trained on the string with such immense heat that Christine is surprised they're not burning off.

"I think it's badass." Zoe retorts, flicking a knife up into the air before it goes spinning back down. She catches it with a satisfying thwack in her palm.

"Squip saw Michael with Jeremy. He figured out Jeremy was alive and didn't try to kill him. Jeremy should've just let that be  _enough_  and not gone running off like some hero!"

"Squip knew Jeremy was alive when he took Brooke, not when he saw him!"

"Squip knew Jeremy was alive and did  _nothing_  to harm him!"

Christine's eyes widen as she thinks about Jeremy's face once Michael and Squip blipped away. "Nothing to harm him?"

"That's not what I meant." Connor fixes his statement quickly, pushing some hair that had fallen in front of his eyes away.

Christine narrows her eyes at the boy, walking closer to him and pointing an accusatory finger. Zoe scans the angry girl, ready to hold her back if necessary. "Did you even see him? Connor, are you stupid? Nothing to harm it? That's fucking rich."

"Who's fucking Rich?" Asks a tall boy as he bounces in the room with a fake confused expression.

Another boy with a fiery stripe in his hair walks in after him. "You, I think."

"Why is Dillinger and the intern here?"

Zoe nods with a smirk. "Backup. See, Connie? This whole thing? It's badass. It's an operation. I'm in."

Christine backs up from Connor, shaking her head as if to clear it. She turns to the two who just entered the room. They both look absurdly normal- can't they read a room? "Rich, do you know how to blow things up?"

Jake bursts out laughing.

Rich elbows him. "Yeah, I am. If you give me the right stuff." Before Rich had decided to start learning medicine like his mom had done before she died, he had grown up in a less populated area- AKA, the middle of nowhere. With no adult supervision except for a deadbeat dad, he usually found himself trying entertain himself in anyway possible. That is- running, exploding, drinking, exploding, smoking, sleeping, exploding, eating, and exploding. Exploding things was something he'd always enjoyed. The loud boom and the way a heartbeat falls in sync with the bangs mystified him. He's never used the bombs for anything offensive, but there's a first for everything.

Christine nods crisply then diverts her attention to the taller of the two. "You know medicine. Are you useful for anything else?" She asks, raising an eyebrow and not bothering to sugarcoat her question. She had intentions and business and lives to save. Kissing ass is not on the agenda.

"I used to play a lot of sports, so I'm fast and strong and stuff." Jake suggests.

" 'Fast and strong and stuff.' Cool. Thanks." She turns from them dismissively to talk to Connor, Zoe, and Evan. "Do we know anyone else who might be down?"

Zoe offers a name first. "Alana."

Evan shakes his head, most likely because he is too shy to meet anyone. Connor shrugs. "Jenna."

"Alright. Zoe, you get Alana. Connor, you go get Jenna."

Connor raises an eyebrow. "Or you could. You two haven't talked since-"

"I don't like you enough for you to play Cupid for me. Go get Jenna. I've got my own things to do."

"Like what?"

Christine sighs, unstrapping her belt from her waist, and taking her hilt with a sword place in it off with it. "I've got to be a footman for the day. Checking on Jeremy and all of that."

_____

Christine fusses with her dress, tugging and pulling and pinning. She had lost weight since she last wore it due to all of her training. Along with that, it felt very nostalgic to be wearing. Like a Christine from a different world wore it- along with the matching red headband sitting on her head. However, the outfit is necessary if she wants to blend in with the other staff.

And blend in with the other staff she does. She keeps her head down, staring at the tray with three cups of tea in her hand, easily slipping past inattentive guards that underestimate a servant girl. It does help that she had worked in the castle before, so maybe they just are passing her off because the vaguely recognize her. Still, it's easier to make it to the King's quarters and knock out the four guards in front of the door because they wouldn't let her pass (without spilling any drop of tea) than it should have been.

She slips into the room, fully expected the scene in front of her: Jeremy and the King talking intently.

With the noise Christine made by entering, King Paul turns around, eyes widening and stepping in front of his son as to make sure Christine either can't see him, can't hurt him, or both. "Guards! You're not authorized to be in here now!"

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, well, Jeremy broke in through the window, so I don't think he is either."

"Get  _out!"_

Jeremy huffs and stands. He passes his father and makes his way over to the snarky girl with a disapproving look in his eye. "Christine, it's not nice to taunt the King after just meeting him, even if you're friends with his son." He explains as he grabs one of the three cups of tea and drinks from it, then reaching for a second and passing it to his father.

"You know her." King Paul states calmly, taking the tea. The amount of relief he feels visibly changes his posture, going from tense and rigid to relaxed in seconds.

"This is Christine. She's going to help."

"How did you get in here?" Paul asks.

Christine smiles devilishly, placing down the tray and taking her cup of tea. "It's why I'm helping. I'm  _that_ good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael has taken damage!  
> Zoe joined your party!  
> Rich joined your party!  
> Jake joined your party!  
> _____  
> Leave a kudos? <3


	20. fun game: kill everyone he loves!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hurting fictional characters is fun!

The second time it happens, Michael doesn't believe that it's Jeremy even as fake-Jeremys desperately tries to coax him to leave, to come with him. In fact, he almost believes him one time, but the moment of weakness fades almost immediately when Michael comes to his senses. However, Squip has more new ideas, like having fake-Jeremy come in and instead of trying to save him, Michael just has to watch him die, over and over again. The door opens and Michael prepares himself- what will it be this time? Jeremy getting shot through the stomach? Missing a limb and bleeding out? Choking? Something worse? 

Instead, he's met with Squip  _and_ Jeremy, Jeremy hopelessly flailing in his grip. "Get off of me!"

"You want Michael so bad? Here he is!" Squip shouts back, roughly shoving Jeremy to the floor. Jeremy's eyes meet Michael's, causing his mouth to fall open. He doesn't even try to fight as Squip crouches down and chains his already handcuffed hands to the wall across from Michael. Squip rises and turns to Michael. "Well, enjoy it while it lasts. Before I actually kill him."

And then Squip leaves. The door closes, sucking all light out of the room. Shakily, Michael raises his voice. "Jeremy?" He calls weakly, as if checking the boy hasn't disintegrated.

Somewhere in Michael, he knows that this is just another fake scenario made up by Squip to hurt him more and more.

Most of Michael doesn't care. He just wants to believe it, even if it's for a second. Even if believing it tears out his guts when his reality is proved to just be fantasy once again.

"Michael. I'm sorry." The fake-Jeremy says, voice raspy and out of breathy, like he'd been running or fighting or screaming or all three.

Michael shakes his head, trying to clear it. He wonders if maybe this is Jeremy-  _really_  Jeremy. He seems sincere. "No, I'm-"

"I came here with Christine to save you and now- now-" The mention of Christine by fake (Real?)-Jeremy makes Michael's stomach flip.

He can hear his own chains dangle as he desperately tries to cross the room, to get closer to (fake?) Jeremy. "It's okay. At least you tried." Michael replies. "At least, when I die-"

"No.  _No."_ Jeremy cuts him off and Michael can hear Jeremy struggling against the chains, too. "No, we're not dying-"

"Jere-"

"You're not dying! I came here to save you- you can't just-"

"Jeremy! Stop it."

"No, no- I  _love you-"_

Michael doesn't hear what fake-Jeremy says after because a sob rips through him like a knife. He sends his foot into the floor, the rebound pushing him backwards so he slams against the wall and another sob tumbles out of him. He curls his legs up and shouts, hanging his head down and tugging at the hair as if the pain in his head from the pulling or the pain in his wrists from the cuffs could numb the pain searing through his chest at those words.  _I love you._

"Fuck you! Fuck you, Squip!" He finally chokes out, sobs still racking his body. There is not enough light in the room to the point where he truly can't tell if his eyes are opened or closed until he sees a flashing blue light and a sick smile where Jeremy was supposed to be. Michael screams as more anger boils through his stomach- stomps his feet, shakes his head, screams some more- as he listens to the laughs from Squip. 

When his throat is too raw to make any more noise, his limbs too tired to move, a confident and deep voice cuts its way through the darkness. The voice pierces Michael's brain and sends another tear rolling down his cheek and down his chin. "What gave it away?" Squip asks with a condescendingly amused voice.

"Jeremy doesn't-" Michael pants. He pauses to swallow and lubricate his dry, spent throat. "Jeremy doesn't love me."

Squip responds with a low chuckle.

The following silence tells Michael he's gone.

_____

"Woah." Evan murmurs as he places the gun down on the table next to him with his one good hand that is currently trembling. He swallows and wipes his palm on his shirt, looking to Connor.

Connor is looking right back at Evan with a face as if he's studying him. He travels to the table and puts the gun on safety before saying anything. Then he turns his attention to the target Evan shot at. "Well... it's something." He says, trying his best to stay positive for Evan. Staying positive isn't usually something he does- especially in this particular situation because Evan is a horrible shot- but he's realized after knowing Evan for a bit that he thrives off of positive reinforcement. The small smile he receives from him is enough to tell Connor that, at the very least, Evan isn't upset. Evan not being upset currently is great all around, considering that he might become very upset later when Connor tells him what's been eating his mind lately.

"I hit the elbow."

"You hit the target!"

"Who's gonna die from an elbow shot?"

"It would be painful and a serious hinderance." Connor reasons, giving Evan a reassuring shoulder pat. Evan's eyes flicker to the hand on his shoulder, millions of thoughts relaying through his head, most of them some form of  _Why has he been acting so strange?_ Connor awkwardly pulls his hand away and clears his throat through a grimace, both of the boys knowing how incomprehensibly odd the interaction was. "But, uh, you should definitely still practice."

 

After Evan managed to hit the target's chest after an obscenely long time of shooting, he decides to call it a day. His shoulders are hurting. To add on to that, Connor seems like he's getting bored of watching Evan's pathetic-ness, which makes Evan's stomach twist and removes any motivation he previously had. That's when he asks if they can go in the barracks or some other place where they could sit and talk without Evan's presence in the kingdom being revealed; Connor accommodates by bringing him outside of the base into the real world, where Evan could just say that he's visiting from another kingdom and doesn't have to worry about hiding away from people.

However, Evan seems to do just that anyway.

"You don't have to hide your face out here. It's not like everyone in the world knows each other. you're just another person." Connor reasons, looking to the boy with a broken arm, who has his head tilted down to look at the path his feet follow.

"Oh, uhm," Evan starts, looking up at Connor before his eyes dart down. "Hiding comes easy to me. I'm a-always like.... this. Sorry. It's weird, I know. Sorry."

Connor's lips turn upward into a smile. "It's not weird. It's another one of your quirks that I like."

"That you like." Evan repeats under his breath, smiling to himself. He reaches for his other hand, starting to pull at his fingers with the grin still attached to his face. Seeing this, Connor grabs his hand on the uninjured arm holding it between them casually. Evan's eyes flicker towards their clasped hands, mutters something, and smiles more.

Eventually, they find a bench to sit at. Instead of sitting on it like normal people do, they both cross their legs and face the other. This position is a bit cramped considering the bench isn't wide enough for them to fully sit like this, so Connor ends up with one of his legs smooshed against the back of the bench. Evan just switches his position to hugging his knees to his chest, but lets his arms relax so he would look more casual rather than like Connor is holding him hostage and Evan is scared of him. After they both get comfortable (or as comfortable as you can get on a public bench), Connor is the first to speak.

"I don't think you should help Christine and Jeremy with the raid." He says plainly, like he's suggesting he doesn't help them bake a cake rather than help them save a friend that he had for years' life.

With a furrowed eyebrow, Evan replies, "I don't think thats a decision you get to make for me." He immediately regrets saying it, feeling like it came off too bold or too rude.

Instead, Connor just frowns rather than getting angry. "I'm not trying to make the decision for you. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"N-nobody is getting hurt."

Connor shakes his head. "I'm the son of a general. I was raised making battle strategies and learning to fight. You and five other people ambushing Scott Whip and his people isn't going to turn out well."

Evan starts to respond, then stops. Himself- then Jeremy, Christine, Rich, Jake, Jenna, Alana, Zoe and Connor. Himself and  _eight_  other people. Had Connor counted wrong? Or had some of them bailed. Or- "You're not coming." He says out loud as soon as he thinks it.

"Please don't go."

"And you talked Zoe and Alana out of it, too." Evan repeats as it settles in.

"It's a  _suicide_  mission. Which is why I don't want you to go."

"Michael-"

"Isn't worth six lives." Connor says. Evan knows that, when he thinks of the mission pessimistically. If all goes well, nobody dies, Michael's saved, and the rebellion is stopped. That's enough to make Evan set on participating in the ambush. After a moment's thought, Connor adds, "Seven lives, if you include King Heere, because Whip will probably kill him, too."

Evan shakes his head. Connor is underestimating the rest of them. "You trained Christine and J-Jenna, Rich can build bombs, Jake's a good shot and knows first aid, and Jeremy? He would freeze o-over hell for Michael. They're not some untrained pack of ten year olds.  _I_  may not be all that good, b-but the rest of them are. "

"Which is why you shouldn't go."

"Which is why I'll be fine if I do."

_____

A lot of people think that because Christine knows magic, she can shoot fireballs out of her hands and produce energy out of thin air. However, that's only a common misconception. Magic like that is reserved for only the most powerful magic wielders; those who aren't as fortunate to be born with such elite abilities can still obtain them through energy from killing living beings.

Like Squip, for example. Which is why he started this whole rebellion thing anyway- not only his vendetta against the Heere's in general, but the desire for  _strength._ All he wants is strength after being rendered so  _weak_ by Jeremy. He's crushed cities and devoured towns, turning them into his minions if they're worth it and killing them if they're not, searching for Jeremy Heere. Squip knows about the billions of universes that exist, some of them containing the same people by some remarkably slim chance from when the universes were still created. Two Jeremys. Two Michaels. Two Richards. But one Squip. One Squip that was  _almost_ killed.

But he wasn't.

And now this is revenge.

Changing his appearance for Michael is one of the most draining uses of his magic he's ever found- the complexity of it all makes him want to give in and snap Michael's neck. The energy from not just a human, but a  _magical_  human, would be enough to replenish all the energy taken to mute Michael's power and imprison him in his personal hell, and with a little extra.

But not yet.

Not when his perfectly crafted plan hangs in the balance of everything remaining exactly how it is: with Michael chained up and Jeremy plotting to come save him.

When he saw the two together, his original plan was just to take Jeremy and kill him- killing Jeremy is necessary. But then he saw Michael. In a tenth of a second, he realized that the outcome of taking Michael would almost definitely lead not only Jeremy, but also Christine, right to Squip.

And what's better than killing the boy who killed you billions of universes ago?

Killing all his family, too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael has taken damage!  
> Michael is low on health!  
> _____  
> Leave a kudos? <3


	21. let's go, bitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we have a plan! The next four chapters are most likely going to come out all together- they're all written already and I'm super excited for you guys to read them! Enjoy!

Jeremiah Heere holds his gun so tight that his knuckles are white and his fingertips are blue. He either doesn't notice, or doesn't care. Ammo is strapped to his body in different places and in his jacket pockets. He pinned the pieces of hair that always cover his eyes back to make sure that they stay out of the way. The room is cold, but he's boiling in anger.  Nobody looks him in the eyes. He's carved out of solid marble and he has one objective that's all he can focus on. He's filled with anticipation and determination and adrenaline and power and  _hope_. He's filled with hope.

Christine Mell-Canigula is wearing lip gloss. She chose cherry pink because she thought it would be fun to kick ass in cherry pink lip gloss, and that's the only reason why. She has a sword strapped to her hip, but her weapons are her hands. They're covered in calluses. They're ready to choke. They're ready to scratch. They're ready to tear and claw and rip and pull. She straps up the laces on her boot so tight that it would be uncomfortable, yet it's not uncomfortable because she can't find it in herself to care about something as menial as her shoelaces. She's filled with happy memories and sad memories and memories that are hard to think about and love and  _hope_. She's filled with hope.

Evan Hansen has a broken arm. He thinks he's useless, but he knows how much power is in a gun, even when he only has one arm and shitty aim. He knows that if it comes down to it, he can pull through. He's read stories about people doing amazing things under pressure. His mother has given him countless pep talks about how he needs to fake confidence until he has confidence. The thought of his mother stings- he refused to believe that she may be a victim to Squip's regime. Maybe if he pretends she isn't, she won't be. But that won't work. Evan's finger hovers over the safety.

Richard Goranski has bombs in a very large duffle bag. He doesn't have a personal connection to anyone except for Jake, but he knows rights from wrongs, and it's wrong that Michael is kidnapped or dead. He knows that he can help, and that's enough. He knows that he has a chance to blow things up, too, which is an added bonus. He doesn't know if it's the best idea to enter himself into a potentially dangerous situation for a stranger. He doesn't know if he has enough reasons to be doing this. He doesn't care, because it was Jake who had initially wanted to help solely because it was a good thing to do, and Jake is enough reason to go.

Jacob Dillinger isn't that good at fighting, but he is good at helping. Ever since he was young, he had a fascination towards mending and fixing and healing and making sure everyone else was okay, even at his own expense. Not many people had the sort of drive to risk their life for another person they don't really know, and not many people have a boyfriend who is willing to follow them. Luckily, Jake has both. He wraps his arms over Rich's shoulder from behind, pulling him into a hug that's not too tight because he's too scared that he is going to accidentally set off a bomb.

Jenna Rolan used to believe that true love came in the form of a beautiful girl that she bought cherry pink lipgloss for. Then they had a fight, and now neither of them talk about it. They swear they don't have feeling for each other anymore, but now Jenna is heading into a possibly deadly ambush for no discernible reason, and the beautiful girl is wearing cherry pink lip gloss. Jenna still doesn't know if true love exists for her, but she takes one look at Jeremy's face and has to look away because of how much it hurts to remind herself that it still exists for other people.

Connor is filled with worry. Connor is filled with a gut-wrenching, never ending worry that Evan- any of them, really- will get hurt or die. He takes a small amount of comfort in knowing that he had gotten his parents to busy up Zoe , which meant that Alana hadn't wanted to go and backed out. At least he's saved those two. Even if he can't save Evan from what could quite possibly be death. Before the group walks out the door, armed to the teeth, to a bulletproof van that the king had made sure picked them, he stops Evan.

"You're sure you want to go?" He asks, placing a hand on the shorter boy's shoulder.

Evan raises his hand to rest it on Connor's. "Yes."

With that, Connor leans down and kisses him; he can't help but to wonder if it's their last. When Evan pulls back and exits the door after the others, they ignore how they both have watering eyes.

They all pile into the van- Rich tosses his bag in the trunk, resulting in a shocked gasp from Jake who begs him to be more careful, to which Rich reminds him that they're activated by buttons, not impact. Jake still calls him an idiot. Once they all get seated, the driver barely has time to press the gas before there's a knocking on the side of the van. Connor is outside. Jenna, who is closest to the door, opens it and Connor quickly pushes himself in the van, sitting on the floor in front of Evan despite there being more open seats. There's not verbal communication. Everyone knows what (who) Connor is there for. Jenna pulls the door shut and the van starts moving.

"So, where are we going?" Rich asks the driver, his voice lacking the usual lisp. That usually happens when he's stressed or scared- he takes extra care to pronounce his words.

"Deanian rebel headquarters." The driver said, offering no other conversation. Rich nods, even though he had already known this.

Jeremy, who's in the front seat, turns around to face the others. "Here's what's going to happen. My father is going to negotiate with Squip for what he thinks is a treaty that is going to be discussed and hopefully signed in one day, because he thinks my dad is a stupid gullible loser. However, no signing is actually going to happen. Instead, while Squip is distracted negotiating about land and laws and power, you're all powering your way inside the headquarter. Since my father is going to be with Squip himself, we have to do this part as fast as possible so he doesn't spend any extra time than what is necessary with him. There's going to be some tight security that we don't have the time or technology to take down- what we need is speed. None of you have to care about setting off alarms or being quiet or any of that. You have one objective: get inside, and that is all you have to worry about. Kill anyone who gets in your way. Search every room. Once we're inside, it doesn't matter if Squip knows we are."

Christine frowns. "What about the king, Jeremy? If Squip hears us coming in with guns and bombs blazing, he'll know who it is and kill your father."

"No, he won't. He's going to lock up my dad, probably in the same place or close to where Michael is. Which is why he's wearing a bug, so I know exactly where he is."

Jake narrows his eyes, scooting forward in his seat slightly. "Woah, woah, woah. You don't know that Squip won't kill him." He argues, concerned for the wellbeing of the king. His whole job for being here is making sure that nobody dies, especially not the goddamn  _king_.

Jeremy's stomach twists because that statement is totally valid- he can't be one hundred percent sure about anything. However, Jeremy knows his father isn't so stupid as to have negotiations without getting Squip thoroughly patted down, along with himself, for Squip's sake. There would be no way that Squip could have a weapon, other than his magic, but there's no way Jeremy can stop that. Jeremy does know that Squip isn't so stupid as to waste his energy on killing an overweight man with no fighting abilities. He knows his father would most likely end up imprisoned, just as intended. "Yeah, I do. Because he hasn't killed Michael yet. He wouldn't have taken him if he wanted to kill him."

Connor scoffs, leaning back on the seat behind him. Evan pauses playing with the boy's hair, listening intently to his every word. "Or maybe he's trying to draw you guys here." Connor says, all eyes in the van (except for the driver) shifting to him. With all the inquisitive glares pointed at him, he elaborates on his statement. "He's leading you to a trap and you're letting him. Squip is a psychopath- he's smart. He hasn't killed Michael because he wants you to come save him so he can kill you. You do realize that the whole royal family is going to be in their  _enemies_ headquarters, right? If you guys get captured or die, it's going to be  _Dustin Kropp_ running this country. This plan is stupid, as I've voiced many times before."

"Squip thinks it'll be just me and Christine." Jeremy reasons. "He's a psychopath, so he can't even consider the possibility that someone who doesn't-...  _love_  Michael is going to be willing to put themself in a dangerous situation for them. And he doesn't know that my dad knows I'm alive. He thinks I'm still trying to hide. He has no idea we're striking now."

Connor shrugs. In his head, he wants to scream and cry and beg Evan to leave with him, but he knows van has his mind set. This plan is a suicide mission, yet some small part of Connor hopes that maybe, just maybe, he can protect Evan. He wouldn't know what he would do if Evan had died and it had been because Connor had simply let him go try to kill an evil murderer with five other teenagers, even if these teenagers showed some promise. He doesn't want to die because he wants to see where his relationship with Evan goes, and he wants to see Zoe grow up, and he wants to give his Mom and Dad hugs hello when they come back from trips. He doesn't do the whole hugging thing, but now he might die, and if he lives, maybe he'll start the whole hugging thing. But he probably won't ever get to, because he's going to die. He wants to vocalize this concern to Evan, to everyone. Instead, "Let's hope." is all he says. They all have their minds made up. The plan is already in motion. In an hour, they're all either be dead, tortured, or safe. It's mind boggling. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, wishing Evan would start paying with his hair again. Like he read his mind, Evan does. Connor lets out a sigh of relief and relaxes, letting himself enjoy the moment.

The display of how unconfident Connor is about the plan causes Jeremy to set his mouth in a thin line. His plan is going to work out. He's going to get Michael out and everyone else. They'll all be safe. They  _have_ be. With the nervous thoughts running around in his head, his leg starts bouncing up and down, something Jeremy is unable to control or stop. Instead, he lets it keep jumping; when he's nervous, moving around makes him feel better, if only a minuscule amount. A minuscule amount of relief is better than the feeling that his chest is going to collapse in on itself as thoughts of failure start to plague his brain. Would it be his plan that gets his friends killed? Would it be his plan that not only fails to save Michael, but also lands everyone else that came to save him directly into Squip's hands? "Christine, do you have the second sensor?" Jeremy asks, trying to focus himself.

Christine tabs her pocket. "Yeah. You?"

Jeremy nods his reply.

"And then what's the plan after we get inside?" Jenna asks after a moment, snapping Jeremy out of his quickly spiraling thoughts.

Jeremy shrugs, shaking his head to clear it. "You all already know that part." He says as calmly as possible, trying to return his heart rate back to normal. "We find Michael and we kill Squip. Easy as that."

Connor lets out a bark of laughter. The van settles into an uneasy silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor has joined your party!  
> _____  
> Leave a comment and a kudos? <3 They make my day!


	22. light em' up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had fun writing this one.

They all silently agree that a bomb is the best way to start. After Christine easily kills the guards outside, they make their way through the front doors of the building. Rich slides a bomb to the center of the lobby as guards rush towards them.

The guards are blasted to bits before they could get close enough to be able to read Jenna's shirt that says 'BAD BITCH' on it.

With the distraction taking place, Jeremy takes the second to slip away from his spot next to Christine and down an empty hallway, undetected by the enemy. He can feel his hard slamming in his chest, every part of his body down to his toes buzzing with adrenaline. Before he can make it to the end of the corridor to the door with a picture of a staircase next to it, more rebels dressed in black bust through it, alerted from the sound of the bomb; these rebels are dressed the same as the ones that had blown up the palace initially. Another boom goes off behind Jeremy as he throws himself into the nearest doorway, which happens to be a small closet. Heart still pounding, he sinks to the floor, deciding to wait until the popping sounds of guns slow before he heads up the stairs to find Michael.  _Michael._ His heart twists as he imagines how he's so close to finding him, to having him back, to holding him.

The others are still in the lobby. Evan had retreated behind a couch as he fired his gun at those who approached him. Small explosions were set off every so often, killing it's target and anyone who was too close to it. Christine swung her sword through anyone who came close, but eventually pulled out her gun because most of the opponents we're using bullets. Connor shot his gun from behind the couch with Evan. Nobody knew where Rich went, but no one else saw Jenna or Jake either, so they assumed they were all together or at least had eyes on each other; the occasional explosion would reassure everyone that Rich is still alive. Eventually, the rebel fighters stopped coming and they all took a moment to regain their composure. Hopefully, Squip had called them off.

"Is everyone okay?" Jake calls out, walking over to them from across the lobby with Jenna following behind him with a bloody knife in hand and some drops splattered on her cheek. Rich drops to the floor from the ceiling- nobody questions how he got onto the beams up there without so much as messing up his hair- and everyone checks themselves. 

Besides for scratches or bruises from physical contact, everyone is fine. No casualties on there side, yet. a door opens and everyone simultaneously aims, some about to fire until Evan calls out, "Don't shoot!" with a desperate ferocity that no one has heard from him before. The three people who entered are different that the last round: they're glowing blue, and more importantly, they're Brooke, Chloe, and- "That's my mom. And my friends." He says next.

"Time to meet the parents." Connor mumbles as the three charge toward the confused group. He raises his gun and fires at Heidi before Evan can even realize what's happening, sending her flying backwards. Before Evan can even process being mad at Connor, he's practically flying over the couch towards his mom, who collapsed on the floor. He falls to his knees next to her. Instead of seeing a bullet would in a vital organ, though, he finds one going straight through her shoulder, and he exhales in relief. Heidi lays there, motionless, like she's in shock. 

He's about to say something to Connor when suddenly he's yanked off his feet, a tight grip enclosing around his throat. His hands immediately fly to the one around his neck, which is Chloe. Connor aims the gun at her.

"Connor, no!" Christine argues, dashing over to him and moving his arm so the barrel is pointed towards the floor. "They're not attacking." She says, motioning to them. Christine is correct- Chloe may have Evan in a chokehold, but Brooke is standing there blankly and Heidi is doing the same except on the floor. In a second, Christine is running towards Evan instead, causing Brooke to immediately move into action. With a little remorse, Christine sends her fist flying. The impact connects with Brooke's jaw, sending her reeling backwards. Christine's next course of action is to jump onto Evan and Chloe, sending them both to the floor. Evan's fall is cushioned by Chloe's body, who lets go due to either surprise or force. Then, Christine rolls off from on top of Evan and he quickly follows. By the time Chloe gets to her feet, Jenna is actively in a fistfight with Brooke and Christine is already prepared, grabbing Chloe's head, yanking it downwards, and connecting it with her knee. Chloe collapses to the floor.

"Holy shit." Evan gasps. Christine shrugs, panting.

Upon seeing this, Brooke retreats through the door she came from in a stiffly robotic fashion.

The group convenes in the middle, Christine taking charge. "You three take the west staircase. " She says, pointing to Rich, Jake, and Jenna. "Connor, Evan and I are going up the east." She points towards the hallway Jeremy had left to. "Jeremy's most likely with Michael already, or will be soon. That means you're looking for Squip. And if you find him... you know what to do."

 

 

Jeremy only rests in the closet for about ten seconds before deciding that he can't wait any longer. He slips out and makes his way down the hall and up the staircase, listening to the sound of bangs and booms and crashes behind him slowly get more and more muffled. Obviously, they're not quiet at all and he can feel the stairs  beneath him quiver when an especially loud bang pops off.. Squip definitely knows that they're here. Jeremy pulls out the sensor that is connected to the bug his father is wearing which had been residing in his back pocket until now. Sure enough, the little green dot representing his father's position is on the move, and it's close to Jeremy's blue dot. Jeremy continues his way up the staircase, paying close attention to the elevation and location of the dot: according to the sensor, the bug is around sixty feet higher than the original elevation it was set to. Eventually, it stops. Jeremy watches in wonder as he walks down the hall, closer and closer to the green. What's supposed to happen is that Jeremy finds his father first and frees him, then he'll be escorted out by Christine, who should already be on her way since she has the second sensor. When the blue dot is practically hovering over the green one, Jeremy stops at the door. It has some sort of lock on it and a number pad which Jermey can't be bothered to try to figure out. Instead, he knocks on the door three times to tell his dad that he's here; hopefully Paul would get the message that he should back up, because Jeremy is about to blow the door open. 

The act of placing a bomb and then pressing a button is a lot less scary than it makes itself out to be- the scary part isn't even the bang, because Jeremy's expecting it. The scary part is what could be behind the door- a million scenarios play through Jeremy's head. it's possible that his father is with Michael. Or that he's alone and covered in blood. Or that when Jeremy walks in, he would find King Heere's body.

Instead, when he walks in, his father is sitting across the room with chains around his wrists with no noticeable problems. Jeremy scans his face and body, yet finds no trace of trauma or blood or any sign that his father might be in pain. Instead, his dad has a serene look of calmness on his face, like he were absolutely confident in his sons abilities to find him and hadn't been worried at all. That his dad would still have that kind of faith in him even after Jeremy abandoned him filled him with a sense of relief and pride that washes over him in waves.

"That was an unpleasant few hours." Paul says as Jeremy walks in, referring to the hours spent talking to Squip while knowing that he would ultimately end up locked in a dark room. Jeremy huffs, makes his way over, and starts pulling at the chains that shackle him to the wall. "Everything's on track?" Paul asks, waiting patiently for Jeremy to find a way to get the metal cuffs off of him, or at least get him off of the wall so he could get out of there.

Jeremy nods, his face contorted into one of focus as he starts fiddling with the lock around the cuffs that held it's place. "Yeah. Christine should be on her way." Finally, he let's go and sits back on his heels with a confused look. "You have any idea on how to get these chains off?"

"Blow them up?" Paul suggests while nodding his head towards the door- or rather the hole where a door once was. 

Jeremy rolls his eyes with a laugh. "The explosions are controlled, but not  _that_ controlled. It would blow your hands right off."

Paul raises an eyebrow. "It would get me out of the chains." He points out. "And that's a chance I'm willing to take."

"You need your hands, Dad." Jeremy shrugs, a small smile on his face. "Shit. I don't know what to do, it won't budge." However, as he continues to helplessly tug at the confining metal, the smile slowly reverts into his lips being pressed in a thin, focused line with his tongue poking out slightly.

Jeremy's starting to panic. All his choices suck- he could leave Dad, and find Michael, but then both Dad and Michael would be in trouble and it's not like Jermey could get Michael out of the chains that he's most likely in anyway. Or, he could just stay with his Dad, but then they're still in danger and Jeremy doesn't even get to see Michael anyway. Just as Jeremy's about to give up, "I got it." A girl says from behind him.

Jeremy turns around, immediately drawing his gun and pointing it towards the voice. Instead of finding an enemy, the owner is only Christine approaching them with her sword drawn. Jeremy backs up to make a path for her, wondering how a sword can slice through metal. It probably can't, but at least she's trying. Christine raises the sword about her head, then wordlessly swings it down and severs the chains from the wall, though the cuffs are still attached to the king's wrist.

"Swords shouldn't be able to do that." Jeremy blinks, shocked.

"Trees shouldn't be able to travel inter-dimensionally." Christine retaliates. Jeremy mumbles something along the lines of 'Good point.' as she helps King Heere up. "I'm going to bring you to Jake- he's going to get you out of here, and we'll deal with your chained wrists when we can be a little more accurate with our weapons. I don't have anything that could slice through that accurately enough to not slice your wrists off with it." Then she turns to Jeremy. "Find him." And she hands him her sword. Jeremy knows who she means.

"Jeremy-" 

His dad turns to him, but Jeremy cuts him off before he could say anything that resembles a goodbye. There wasn't a goodbye to be said- they'd see each other later. Christine knows what she's doing. Even though they hadn't always been on the best of terms, Jeremy's grateful that Christine had been by his side throughout the entire experience of losing Michael. And getting him back. "Go. Get yourself to safety. I trust Christine." Jeremy reassures his father, who gives him an awkward two-handed pat on the shoulder because his hands are still connected at the wrist.

With that, the two groups head off in different directions: Christine and Mr. Heere to the staircase, and Jeremy to the only other room in the hallway with a lock on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy really went from not being able to see Christine without going into a blind panic to trusting Christine completely. baby.  
> _____  
> Leave a kudos and comment? <3


	23. oh, what did he do to you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is by far my favorite chapter of the whole story!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter and the epilogue will be out soon!

To Michael, the entire world is black. Then there was bangs. Then a bang that was closer. Then another one, and the entire world was light. The door had been opened, though not by normal means- instead, it had exploded and now a figure is coming towards him. Michael already knows who it is.

He doesn't feel relief. He's just tired. He doesn't want to play this game with Squip anymore.

 _"Michael."_ Jeremy calls out with such desperation, he feels like his vocal cords shred. He stumbles forward and drops on his knees in front of him, a smile breaking out onto his face. Michael seemed to be in shock, but he didn't seem hurt. Jeremy places his hand on his cheek, yet the other boy stays neutral. "Hi. Hi. Hey." He says. He's still smiling, but it slowly drops off his face at the unimpressed look he's getting from Michael. "Michael?"

"Get off me." Michael responds. His voice is raspy, like he'd been yelling. Or crying.

Jeremy immediately lets his hand off of Michael's face, resting it awkwardly on his own knee. "Sorry." He mutters, fighting off the embarrassment that burns his cheeks. He thought Michael would have been more excited to see him, or, at the very least, excited to leave Squip. Jeremy lifts Christine's sword, ready to replicate what she did and cut the chains. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

Jeremy reaches for the chains on Michael so he can start cutting, but Michael cringes away. "Go away." He mutters.

Jeremy's stomach twists. What had happened? A million explanations run through his head, but he says the first one that comes to mind. "Is this Stockholm Syndrome or something?" Michael looked at Jeremy with a burning hatred, one that makes him wish that he had never even came here. The fact that he thinks that automatically fills him with guilt.

"Oh, fuck off." Michael groans. A wad of spit connects his Jeremy's face and he gasps. "I'm surprised you don't melt like a witch."

Jeremy wipes his face. "Michael, what the  _fuck?"_ He doesn't give up, though. Instead, he takes the sword and swoops it against the chain like Christine had done. Sure enough, the chain clatters to the floor like it had been nothing but string. "Let's just go." He says as matter-of-factly as possible.

"I know this is a trick."

"Why would you think that? Michael,  _please,_ we have to hurry. Christine is here, too, she's waiting for us!"

Michael disregards Jeremy, instead looking over his shoulder at something behind him. "That was good, I'll admit, pulling Christine into this. Got me for a second. It's new." Michael says to whatever is behind Jeremy.

Whoever.

Jeremy knows exactly who he'll see if he turns around. And when he does, he's not shocked.

"Hello, Jeremiah." Squip says coolly. "I have your friends distracted. It's just us two, now." He walks closer to Jeremy, the lines along his body glowing their sickening blue, as Jeremy clambers his way to a standing position. If he's going down, he's not going down while sitting on the floor.

"Michael's here, too."

The Squip laughs, but it doesn't sound remotely human. It sounds like a computer trying it's best. "Michael's not going to help you." He looks to the boy, still on the floor, despite him not being chained down anymore. "He's confused and very, very stupid."

"What did you do to him?"

"Something that would make him not want to come with you when you ultimately came to save him. It bought me some time to get to you. Your plan was very predictable, by the way." The way Squip speaks is composed and calculated, like he is telling Jeremy the times tables or a set of important facts that he should remember. His mannerisms are condescending. They almost make him want to slap him, but he can't work based off of only emotions as of now.

Jeremy's stomach flips. He had known, somewhere in his brain, that the whole ordeal was too easy to credit to good luck or how well trained the group is. He had known the Squip was allowing the attack, seeing his loyal rebels as nothing more than expendable distractions. Connor said from the start that Jeremy was playing right into Squip's hands, yet he let himself. He was desperately hooked on the idea of saving Michael. But he had known this was Squip's idea the whole time. "Yours, too." He decides to reply, keeping his focused trained on Squip's studying eyes grazing over him. He's trying to solve him, like an equation. That's one of his flaws- the inability to account for the unexpected. Which is exactly how Jeremy plans to play this.

"Then how do I have the upper hand?" Squip observes. As he says this, he raises one of his hands. It's a joke. It's a game, and he thinks he's winning. Just like always.

"Do you?" Jeremy asks, cockily raising an eyebrow. At this point, he's not entirely sure bout anything, but either way he dies without a plan or dies maybe having a plan.

The question startles Squip, whose self-righteous smile turns into a grimace. "Of course I do." He snarls, balling up his fists. They glow brighter. 

Jeremy swallows. He's good at stalling, and that's what he really needs. More time to think, to figure it out, for Christine to come. He trusts Christine. She'll come. "Did you consider that they might be wondering what's taking me so long? That they might be on their way here now?"

Squip narrows his eyes. Shrugs off the question. Except Jeremy can see through it- he can see the self-doubt burning through Squip, how a part of him doesn't believe what he says next. "They're too busy with the guards."

"I think you underestimated my friends." Jeremy retaliates, a small blaze of hope ripping through him despite the fact that all it's based off of is a lie he's telling to both himself and Squip. Still, Squip's confident demeanor is damaged, if only minutely. The two stare at each other in a tense silence, filled only by the crackling energy coming from Squip's hand.  _Silence_ , Jeremy realizes with a start. Silence. No gun shots or explosions. Which means that everyone is either dead or on their way; Jeremy wishes for the latter. He keeps himself talking, deciding that that is what is going to save his ass. "I'm judging that because you didn't strike and kill me yet, that's it. That's the last of your energy." He nods his head towards the two pulsating balls of cyan energy that reside on and around Squip's hands. "It's probably tiring controlling all the other people you...  _Squipped_. Like Brooke. And you didn't account for it to be hard to kill me, so you didn't save a lot of energy, did you? You have two shots."

The blue light flickers out. "Perhaps I did underestimate you." Squip reasons. For a second, Jeremy feels relief.

Then Squip pulls out a gun and all relief vanishes. Jeremy gets ready to jump, but it isn't pointed at him- instead, it's trained on Michael, who has been staying remarkably quiet. Squip's face has no mocking smile plastered on it any longer, just a neutral, stone cold exterior; the gun remains unwavering, and so does Jeremy. "Good thing I can do more than glow."

And then, without thinking, Jeremy's swinging the sword. He doesn't know how he does it without Squip reacting- perhaps because Squip wasn't expecting Jeremy to do anything- but the blade of Christine's sword connects with flesh and bone and the gun clatters to the floor, Squip's hand falling down, detached from his body, with it. A scream of pain tears through Squip's throat, who staggers backward, desperately clutching the nub. Jeremy's eyes widen in surprise, not knowing when he had decided to do that or why Squip has no blood. But it happened, blood or no blood, and there's no going back. He spares a glance towards Michael, who seems okay besides for the tear tracks running down his cheeks and his deeply conflicted facial expressions.

The remaining hand that Squip has starts extending towards Jeremy with the pulsating energy aimed at him, a beam of light hitting the spot he was before he ducks and twists out of the way. Squip shouts in frustration. Jeremy can hear blood pounding in his ears as he clumsily swings the sword towards Squip's legs, but he's too slow to get away when he misses. Squip extends his hand again and sends another beam of energy down towards Jeremy on the floor. He rolls, but too late. The beam hits his back; instead of feeling the searing pain of burning flesh, as Jeremy expected, it felt like someone is holding tasers along his spine and electrocuting with all their force. Jeremy cries out, pressing his forehead down into the floor and slamming his closed fist into it, convulsing until the pain subsides. He shudders, dry heaving the emptiness in his stomach. He'd been too nervous to eat this morning, and now he's glad for it. A gunshot rings out, and Jeremy thinks,  _this is it._ He waits to feel the bullet, trying to locate where he was shot. Maybe Squip had shot his head and he's already dead?

But he's not. And Squip is shouting curses.

When Jeremy gains the energy to look at the scene, Squip is clutching his shoulder and Michael is the one with the gun; Evan is standing in the doorway, looking shocked. Quickly, Connor appears into view followed by Rich, Christine, and Jenna, all equally shocked, all staring at Squip, who seems frozen in his spot. Jeremy's eyes flicker back to Michael, wondering what had caused the sudden jump into action.

As if reading his mind, Michael replies, "He can turn into whoever he wants, ya know. I didn't know if y-you were real or not. But then I saw Evan. Squip- he's never seen Evan. There's no way. He's from Version Two. And then- then- I knew that-"

Every part of Jeremy wants to run forward and hold Michael, to tell him not to worry, that everything is okay. But it's not. Without warning, Squip turns, grabbing the barrel of the gun and pushing it to face the ceiling so Michael can't shoot him. With his other nubbed arm, he hits Michael's arm so that his already loose grip on the gun becomes even looser and it slips out of his grip. Immediately, someone from the group fires at Squip, but he dodges the bullet as he readjusts the gun to hold it properly. Another shot from them fires and misses, but nobody dares to move closer to the armed madman. However, without a second thought, Michael jumps on Squip's back to try to wrestle the gun back. He loops his chained arms over his head and pulls back against Squip's throat, trying either to choke him or pull him onto the floor or both. Unable to move, Jeremy watches Michael in surreal horror.

Squip fires the gun blindly. The entire room shakes with the loud noise and the implications of what had happened- there's five people standing in the doorway, and its almost impossible that he hadn't hit one of them. He fires again, but the gun clicks, empty. Michael slides off of Squip's back; the thump of his feet as they connect to the ground and Squip's spluttering as he tries to get air back into his lungs is the only noise anyone makes.

Jeremy's still staring at Michael, much too scared to look over to Evan and the others in the doorway. He's content to watch an opened mouth Michael stare at the group of teenagers.

There's silence.

The sound of a body hitting the floor.

Finally, a strangled cry.

Unable to bear it anymore, Jeremy turns. When he saw movies or TV shows where any good guy dies, they always get last words or a dying wish. A proclamation of love, or wise advice, or life changing information given to those around around him.

But Connor's just dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor is at critically low health!  
> _____  
> did you see what i did there lol.... because connor dies in canon.... and he called the mission a SUICIDE mission and then he-  
> _____  
> Leave a kudos and comment? <3


	24. the power of love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the final chapter, if you don't include the epilogue. <3

  
Evan had been the one who screamed. He's crouching next to Connor while everyone else stared at him, dumbfounded, as he put two fingers on Connor's neck, searching for a pulse _._ Jeremy shudders. Then, Evan seems to find what he's looking for, because he pauses.

"Connie? Connie." Evan pleads, his hand pressing on the bullet wound by his chest.

"Look... what you made me do." Squip says shakily, looking at Jeremy with a sickening grin. But no grin could hide how drained Squip looks as he stands there, barely holding himself upright on his two feet.

Michael lifts one of his hands and a stream of fire comes out of it like a flame thrower. Jeremy can hardly see Squip's mouth opening before he's engulfed in red flame; Squip doesn't scream or even burn- he  _melts_ like a machine made of metal.

Jeremy has expected something more.

Perhaps Squip didn't deserve that.

It seems like a lifetime staring at the spot where Squip once was before Jeremy hears a groan of "Fuck". He turns immediately to Connor and the relief hits him like a train.

Connor's not dead.  
_____

The group had proceeded to run out as fast as they can, with Christine being the one to carry Connor. Evan ran beside her, matching her every step and making sure that Connor kept his eyes open. Jenna had called Jake before they'd reached Squip to make sure that he had the drivers ready for a fast retreat, since they had expected those who remained loyal to Squip would want them dead. They make it outside. Jake, upon seeing them, hurriedly pulls open the car door and Christine clambers in holding Connor, with Evan, Jeremy, Michael, Rich, and then finally Jake following her in. The king, who had been sitting in the passenger seat peacefully, now looked fully alarmed upon seeing the wounded boy.

"Jenna, hurry up. Get in!" Rich hisses, his arm extended out and holding the door, ready to close it as soon as she entered.

"The glowy people. Your friends," Jenna explains frantically. "They can't be under his control if he's dead, right? I have to go get them." She runs off without waiting for an answer, back inside.

"Jenna!" Christine calls out , but rendered unable to do anything because of Connor's legs across her lap.

"Holy shit." Michael murmurs, putting his head in his hands.

Jake slaps his hand onto Michael's shoulder as some sort of friendly gesture that Michael's not familiar with. "Michael, man. Glad to have you back." He pats his back twice before pulling his hand back back and turning his attention towards Rich. When Jake had first entered the car, Rich had to help him in since he couldn't support his own weight on one leg. Michael also noticed the blood-stained bandages around it.

"The base is, like, an hour away." Evan speaks up, Connor's hand intertwined with his.

Michael looks at Evan, who is behind him in the back seat with Christine, Jake, and Connor laid on top of them. "Nearest hospital is fifteen minutes." He supplies.

"Okay, we're going there." King Heere tells the driver, and they immediately start driving. "Go as fast as you can!" He continues, waving his hands around. The car accelerates.

Evan is talking to Connor since his head is on his lap, Jake is applying pressure to the wound, and Christine is staring out the back window at where they came from, looking for something. Speaking at a steady pace like he's never done before, Evan tells Connor stories about anything he can think of, like his Mom and Brooke and the conversations he's had with Jeremy and Michael in the barracks. Connor listens, but doesn't reply. His eyes stare blankly through Evan at something far away.

The rest of them sit in silence, not bothering to talk. Jeremy and Michael's hands are clasped between them. Jeremy wants to say something, but now is far from the time.; everyone waits with their breaths held to get to the hospital, Jeremy's leg bouncing the entire time.

"Connie, don't close your eyes." Evan says, slightly louder than his incoherent mumbling to Connor. This causes everyone to turn and look at him. He looks up to the others with an exasperated yet pained expression on his face. "Can this car go any faster?"  
  


When the car pulls up to the front entrance of the trauma center, the group gets out in record speed, all shouting the same story differently. What the doctors get from them is close to nothing, but they see Connor and burst into action.

"That's the General's son!" Calls out one of the doctors as a stretcher is pulled out by others. "And-" Her eyes fall on Jeremy, her mouth opens as if to say something, then she shakes her head and focuses back on helping. Jeremy doesn't bother to hide himself as he and Michael follow them together into the building with the others. Connor is immediately brought to an operating room, while the odd group is directed to a waiting room, all receiving strange stares and shocked gasps. Really, it's Jeremy's alive-ness that is receiving all the attention. Or maybe the fact that Jake and Evan are covered in blood. Probably both.  
  
  


The two boys make their way to a restroom to clean off. It takes a while because Jake gets them lost at least three times, but they eventually make it.

Jake turns on a faucet and begins scrubbing blood off of his hands, trying to think about it like it's just another patient- not the blood of an important person, a person who put their life on the line to protect Michael and Evan. His eyes flicker over to the latter, who stands at the sink, gripping the edge with his uninjured hand, instead of moving.

"You good?" Jake asks.

Evan snaps out of whatever trance he's in, lifting his hand off of the white sink. There's a red handprint where his hand had rested, which Evan's gaze attaches too before he quickly turns on the faucet and washes it off. His other hand that is engulfed by a cast is another story, since the blood had stained the white cast, which has Connor's name proudly written across it in a huge font. The signature seems darkly ironic, now. "Yeah, I'm fine." Evan mumbles.

Never have talked to Evan before, Jake didn't find it to be his duty to pry. But the boy is obviously not okay, and offering words of comfort isn't necessarily prying.

"You're obviously not." Jake starts out easy. He listens to the other take a shuddering breath.

"I..." Evan starts. His head had been hanging towards the basin, but now he's raising his gaze to meet the mirror. His eyes are red. "I don't know what to tell his parents. They don't even know me."

"King Heere is telling them, I thought."

Evan responds by shaking his head. "That he got shot. I asked- I shouldn't have asked- but I asked to be the one to tell them- tell them exactly what happened. For Zoe."

In Jake's mind, this makes no sense. To tell them would be an unnecessary burden that Evan shouldn't have to carry along with all the worry. He forms a simple question: "Why?"

Evan wipes his nose, sniffling a bit. "He wasn't going to come." Evan barely whispers. The statement was so quiet that Jake could hardly make out what he said over the sound of rushing water coming from both of their faucets. "He came for me." He continues.

Jake's eyes widen as he realizes what's being implied. "Evan, none of it was your fault."

"He said it was a suicide mission. He begged me not to go. If I had listened-" Evan stammers out. Guilt had been eating away inside him. He had been carrying around the blame for what happened on his shoulder ever since Squip had pulled the trigger; he had thought of a million ways that he could have saved Connor if he hadn't been so stupid.

"It's not your fault. You did what you thought was right- you didn't force Connor to come. There was one person who's fault it was and he's dead."

Evan stares at his hands as he vigorously scrubs blood off them, water turning pink and slipping away down the drain, taking some of Connor with it. "I don't know what to do right now. I'm so- I'm so helpless that I can hardly comprehend it. What if he- he dies?"

Jake shakes his head. "He's not going to die."

Evan scoffs. The statement is stupid. No one can tell the future, not even someone who is trained in the medical field. "You don't know that, Jake. No-nobody knows that."

"Connor's strong. And if the bullet had hit his heart, he would have died instantly. But he didn't. Which means that he has a... a good chance of being fine."

Evan laughs cynically. "A good chance of being fine." He quotes. "If Rich had been shot instead of Connor, could you still stand here so calm and say the same things?" He asks, even if the question is unfair.

Jake's mouth opens as if to reply, but he doesn't answer him. They both know the answer already.

Evan turns off the faucet. "I can't get all his blood out from underneath my fingernails."

He leaves the bathroom.

_____

When the Murphy parents walks into the waiting room, Evan recognizes them immediately. Connor had shown him family pictures from when he was younger since they had none from more recent times. Zoe comes in behind them, her hand firmly clasped with Alana's. Zoe's worried face looks exactly like her parents; Evan decides he would have known even if he'd never seen pictures. Zoe looks at him, then to Michael who's still asleep on Jeremy's shoulder, then back. Their eyes meet, and a conversation happens in a second.

 _He went with you?_  I _s he alive?_

_Yes._

_Are you okay?_

Evan looks away from her.

"Evan." Alana says, going around Cynthia and Larry with Zoe in tow. In character, she immediately tries to calm herself down by obtaining the facts. "Glad you're back. Is Michael okay?" She asks matter-of-factly. Evan is surprised nobody is harassing him with questions about Connor, but relieved nonetheless.

"Yeah, Michael's fine." Evan replies. The question was pointless, since Michael is so obviously in a chair behind him and not dead.

"That's good." She continues. She turns to Zoe with a sad smile. "Zoe was so mad when she found out Connor had left after going all crazy and forbidding her to leave. Hypocritical."

"He was right to." Zoe replies, her voice dull and expression neutral.

Alana clears her throat- Evan gets the message. Time for business. She opens her mouth and-

"I'm sorry, what the hell is going on?" A voice cuts through the conversation, loud and precise, causing Evan to jump in his spot. Though he knows he's in no real danger, he can't stop his heart from accelerating to a pounding rate. "Connor got shot, you're talking to a stranger, and the dead prince is sitting in a chair five feet from us. Now if I don't get some answers-"

The woman next to Larry places a thin hand on his arm, doing her best to make him stop yelling. "Larry, calm down. Give them a second to answer!" She pleads. Her eyes are as wide as saucers.

Zoe lets go of Alana's hand and brings her now free hand to rub her forehead, sighing loudly. "Evan isn't a stranger. A lot has happened in these past months. He and Connor are..." She trails off, looking to Evan for confirmation. He nods his head hesitantly. "Dating?" Zoe finishes.

"Dating." Cynthia repeats. Her hand, which had previously been resting on Larry's arm, now gripped it as she plopped herself into a chair. With a deep breath, she continues talking. "Okay, sweetie. Why don't we  _all_  sit down?"

Larry clears his throat, straightens his tie, but remains standing. "We're going to need one hell of an explanation."

"It's a hell of a story."

_____

Jenna had reprimanded herself over how dumb of an idea it was to go back into Squip's lair again and again, but she somehow didn't feel sorry. Especially when she had found who could only be Evan's mother walking through the hallway, looking incomprehensibly lost.

"Miss Hansen?" Jenna asks. The lost eyes find their way upon her.

"You know my name." She replies, more of a statement than a question. Jenna makes her way over to the woman as slow as possible, like she is a wild deer that she's trying not to scare away.

Jenna shakes her head. "I know your son's name. He looks just like you."

With that, the Miss Hansen's eyes widen along with her mouth. She paces up to Jenna with a threatening ferocity, grabbing her once she's close enough. "Evan. You took Evan?"

"We're friends. Miss Hansen, I need to get you somewhere safe."

"Friends." She repeats. Jenna responds with a nod. "I can't leave yet. There are more people here."

"That's why I'm here."

Jenna escorted Miss Hansen outside, learning her name is Heidi and telling her to stay put by a tree. She also learns that there was only Heidi, Chloe, and Brooke in the building. Squip's idea is that them three would be able to kill the others because the others had too strong of an emotional bond to kill them. Jenna makes her way back inside, searching and calling out for the two girls and receiving no response. She eventually finds them in some sort of office underneath a desk, pressed together. When she saw Jenna, Brooke begged her not to kill them.

Jenna answered with, "I'm a friend of the prince." which hadn't been the best answer, because Brooke immediately started crying and rapidly apologizing like her life depended on it. In her mind, it probably did. Eventually, Jenna was able to clear up the confusion: no, she isn't there to kill them; no, Jeremy isn't mad; yes, everything will be explained to them later.

They eventually emerge from underneath the desk and Jenna brings them outside to Heidi. Then she pulls out her phone to call Jeremy and tell him the news, ignoring notification displaying six missed calls from Christine. She asks for a ride home, too.

She's tired.

_____

Jeremy pulls the phone away from his ear. "Evan, I'm going to go pick up Jenna and bring her back to base. Are you okay here?"

Evan turns away from the Murphys-plus-Alana, who have been listening intently to his every word. "Yeah, I'll be fine. You guys can go. How's my- uh- my mom?"

"Chloe, Brooke and your mom were the only people there who hadn't fled or died. All three of them are okay."

"And Jenna's okay?" Christine asks, leaning forward with interest. Jeremy gives her an odd look before reassuring her that Jenna is fine.

The boy gently shakes Michael awake, receiving a groan and reluctantly opening eyes. He asks the rest of them if they want a ride home- he didn't give Michael an option, though- to which everyone except for Evan and the Murphys-plus-Alana accept.

They all made their way out of the waiting room. Jeremy is the last, held back by Evan. He tells Michael to go ahead without him and promises that he'll be right behind him. Michael hesitantly agrees, catching up to Rich and Jake because he doesn't want to walk alone. Evan pulls Jeremy to the side, out of earshot from the other four remaining in the room, his eyebrow knitted.

"What is it, Evan? Are you alright?" Jeremy asks, his voice laced with worry.

Evan nods his head slowly, as if he's unsure in his answer. "Yeah, I am." He states. He takes a deep breath in and exhales it slowly. "Just- make sure to tell Michael you love him."

_____

Michael runs a brush through Christine's hair soothingly again and again, repeating the same action for as long as both of them can stand without addressing the elephant in the room. As it turns out, it doesn't take very long for Christine to lose focus and open her mouth.

Worry had consumed her every second Michael was gone, and now that he's back, it doesn't take a genius to realize that he's thoroughly shaken. Still, he hadn't brought up anything that happened while he was taken by Squip. Now Christine decides that it's her duty to get him to talk.

"Mike," She starts, putting her hand on the back of her head in order to stop the brush.

"Hm?" He hums. He's still a little out of it.

"Are you alright?"

He laughs as if the questions absurd, gathering Christine's hair behind her head in his hand like a ponytail then letting it go. "Of course I'm alright. I'm back, aren't I?" He replies airily, his voice light and distant.

Christine adjusts herself on the bed they're sitting on so she can face him rather than having her back to him. She has a frown on her face and her eyebrows are furrowed. "You can talk to me when you're ready."

"When I'm ready." He sighs. His face mirrors Christine's with a frown. "It's over now. I'm okay."

Christine smiles. She places her hand on Michael's cheek, which he leans into, his eyes fluttering shut and the rest of his face relaxing. "Jeremy really missed you." His eyes snap open at the mention of Jeremy. "I think you should tell him how you-"

"No." A memory runs through Michael's head.

_"Fuck you! Fuck you, Squip!" He finally choked out, sobs still racking his body. There was not enough light in the room to the point where he truly can't tell if his eyes were opened or closed until he saw a flashing blue light and a sick smile where Jeremy was supposed to be. Michael screamed as more anger boiled through his stomach- stomped his feet, shook his head, screamed some more- as he listened to the laughs from Squip._

_When his throat was too raw to make any more noise, his limbs too tired to move, a confident and deep voice cut its way through the darkness. The voice pierced Michael's brain and sent another tear rolling down his cheek and down his chin. "What gave it away?" Squip asked with a condescendingly amused voice._

_"Jeremy doesn't-" Michael panted. He paused to swallow and lubricate his dry, spent throat. "Jeremy doesn't love me."_

Michael swallows again, trying to remove the memory from his brain. He doesn't want to think about his time with Squip. His time watching Jeremy die over and over again despite all his attempts to save him- "No, absolutely not."

Christine lets out a sigh. "He loves you."

"Jeremy doesn't love me." Michael quotes. His hands are starting to warm up, but he can hardly pay attention to that. He throws his legs over the side of the bed and stands up.

"I've seen it-"

His hands are so hot that they almost hurt. "Jeremy doesn't love me!" Michael shouts, his hands flying upwards to grip the back of his neck.

"Michael-"

"Stop it!" Michael shouts, his eyes widening. He throws his hands down to his sides just as they burst into flames. He curls his hands up into fists. "God, shut up! I couldn't save him! He doesn't love me! I couldn't save him!" He feels the boiling hot anger, lets it reside in him and grow, wants to pick up Christine's flower vase and chuck it to the ground just to watch it shatter, but he doesn't. He listens to the crackle of the flame on his hands. How  _infuriating_ it is that Jeremy doesn't love him, how Jeremy will never love him. However, with one look at Christine, his rage is replaced by a crippling and numbing sadness. "I couldn't save him." He repeats, softly this time. The flame fades into nothingness.

Christine looks like she's on the brink of tears. "What did Squip do to you?" She asks, her voice cracking in the middle of her question.

"Just hug me. Please." He begs, and Christine is immediately standing and wrapping her arms around her brother. In return, he wraps his arms around her, letting his own breaths match Christine's. "He died. So many times." He eventually mumbles.

Christine pulls out of the hug, looking up at him with a slightly open mouth. "And you couldn't save him." Michael nods. Christine presses herself against Michael again, returning to the hug. "I love you."

Michael exhales, a small smile growing on his face. "I love you, too."

_____

Michael had ended up going back to the barracks- he had Christine drop him off because he was too scared to walk alone. Jeremy was seated patiently on the bottom bunk of the bed closest to the door, and he had immediately stood and made his way over once Michael entered. Christine had mumbled a 'goodnight' that neither of them return before leaving. The door closes, and Michael is suddenly hyper-aware that this is the first time the two had been truly alone and both in the right state of mind since they had been pulled apart from each other what feels like lifetimes ago.

And then- "I lied to you about my Moms. They aren't vacationing; they travelled from Version to Version trying to stop Squip from taking over them. And then you ended it all in a few days when we couldn't end it for years and you did it because of-  _me_." Michael spits out. He had never intended to say any of that, but it had just occurred to him that Jeremy ended what had been a war for the Mell family because Michael had been taken.

Michael.

"That's just the power of l-" Jeremy's eyes widen. "-of me, I guess."

Michael laughs. Jeremy suddenly grabs either side of his arms, then continues to pat up and down his arms as if checking that Michael is real. Finally, his hands end up on either side of Michael's face so that Jeremy is holding either one of Michael's cheeks. "I missed you." Michael says. He tries to smile, but Jeremy's hands are a hinderance to his face muscles so his smile looks more like an awkward unnamed facial expression.

"I missed you, too. So much." Jeremy throws himself around Michael's neck, and Michael is pulled into his third hug of the night. Not that he's complaining. The hug doesn't last long because Jeremy ends up being te first to pull away after a few seconds. "I know I'm not the first to ask this, but how are you?"

 _Fine. This is just one of the first interactions in a while I've had with you where you didn't end up dying._ "I'll live."

"I know that." Jeremy rolls his eyes. "Come on. Let's sit down." They walk over to the bed Jeremy was previously sitting on, but Michael is set on not being the first to speak. Jeremy probably didn't expect him too, either. "I'm pretty sure I know what happened, but tell me if I'm wrong." He takes a deep breath. "You said that he turned into me, but you don't have any cuts or bruises, so I can assume that Me-Squip didn't hurt you. Physically, I mean. But when I came to rescue you, you thought I was Squip. You knew Squip disguised as me wasn't really me. So either Me-Squip was saying some pretty bad things to you and you didn't believe it, or..." His voice trails off.

"Or?" Michael prompts, his voice wavering even on such a short word. He knows Jermey is smart enough to figure out what happened.

"Anything else could've been me, and you would never know it was just Squip looking like me. Unless I died and came back to life. Then you would know it was fake."

Michael stays silent, which is response enough for Jeremy, who has eyes- such pretty eyes- filled with sadness and shock and something else that Michael can't quite place.

"How many times?" Jeremy asks next, reaching his hand forward and grabbing Michael's.

He shakes his head. "I lost count."

"Michael." Jeremy exhales, the name sounding like a plea.

"But you're here now. And I'm here. And you're not leaving me." Michael answers, the last sentence coming out more like a question rather than a statement of fact. He knows that even if it won't be in the way he wishes it were, Jeremy will always want Michael close to him. Nobody does what Jeremy did just to ditch them.

"Never."

Then Michael gets pulled, but not away from Jeremy- closer. Jeremy's hand had found it's way to the back of Michael's neck, pulling him forward ever so slightly. Jeremy closes the gap as he presses his lips against Michael's.

The world stops. Michael kisses back. Michael's eyes flutter closed and he kisses back like he's going to get pulled away any second, but he's not, and he won't. He kisses back like he needs it to live and he's pretty sure he does. When he starts to lean out of the kiss, Jeremy moves forward to try to catch his lips again. When Michael doesn't let him, Jeremy opens his eyes and stares up at him.

"Did-"

"I love you. I'm in love with you." Michael breathes out.

The grin that breaks out onto Jeremy's face makes Michael want to squeal and pick him up and hug him and kiss him more. "I'm in love with you." Jeremy confesses, his eyes flickering over Michael's face like he's waiting for Michael to start laughing and tell him that he's joking.

"Promise?" Michael feels like a child asking that, but he couldn't stop himself.

_"I promise."_

And they kiss some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quest complete!  
> _____  
> Leave a kudos and comment? <3


	25. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ;)

Rich turns over in the bed, facing Jake, his lips pressed together in a line. "I can't shake this feeling. Like we're forgetting something." He says, his voice laced with concern.

Jake doesn't even bother to eyes before mumbling out an answer. "You're being paranoid. Go to sleep." He replies. Throwing an arm around Rich, he pulls him closer so they're pressed against each other.

"Yeah, you're right." Rich says, exhaling and allowing himself to relax.

And none of them know that a trillion universes away-

Rich had a SQUIP, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some important information!  
> \- So far, I don't plan on writing a sequel.  
> \- I do plan on writing some bonus chapters for this book! Most likely all fluff. :)  
> \- I do plan on writing more BMC fanfiction. I'm not sure if it will be another book or as long as this one, but I don't intend on stopping writing.  
> _____  
> Holy crap. Thank you SO much for reading. It really means the world to me- all the kudos and comments and hits are amazing and it makes me feel like this all paid off. I worked so hard on this book and all the support I've received is the best thing ever. THANK YOU! <3  
> _____   
> Leave a kudos and a comment? <3


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